Campfire Stories, Season One
by polrobin
Summary: A series of stories set on different planets, filling in the growth of the relationship between Sam and Jack. Some are missing scenes, some are episode tags. Marked "complete" because each chapter can stand alone. Feedback always answered.
1. Settling In

A/N: Someone recently asked me why there weren't more scenes with Sam and Jack around a camfire on their various adventures. I assured her that fanfic authors had covered that...then found that I couldn't find any stories that had.

That got me thinking…and thus begins what I hope to be a series of "Campfire" stories. I'll try to label them so that it's clear where they fall.

As always, the characters that you recognize are owned by others. I am not making money doing this, just playing and having fun. If you like what I've done with them, ask me to write a script for the new show!

Enjoy.

Additional A/N, added 3/21/09: I, for some mysterious reason, did not write Campfires for all the eps of Season 1. I am going back and rectifying that error. Hopefully this will not screw you all up too badly. We'll see what can handle as I swap out chapters.

Set following _Children of the Gods._

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_**Settling In**_

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Samantha Carter drove slowly down the street, glancing between the numbers on the houses and the slip of paper on which her new boss had hastily scribbled his address. She slowed to a crawl when she saw the children playing in a yard to her right, hoping none of them would decide to sprint into the street as she was driving by.

_That's what I need_, she thought. _Squish a kid on the Colonel's street. Probably be some best buddy of his kid's. If he even has kids._ Sam's thoughts trailed off as she finally spotted the correct address on the last house on the street. Tucked at the end of the lane, the Colonel's house was nestled perfectly into the surrounding foliage; the yard was neat and tidy, and a small opening in the bushes to the left of the house hinted at a larger backyard. For now, however, Sam was concerned with finding a place to park her vintage Volvo. The only empty spot on the street was in the Colonel's driveway, and that seemed a bit presumptuous to her.

Glancing up the street again, Sam shrugged, then gave up. _The driveway it is. Hope his wife doesn't mind._ Sam unfolded her long frame from the tiny Volvo, then reached inside to grab the bottle of wine she'd purchased on her way over. She nervously smoothed a hand over her polo shirt and blue jeans, hoping the Colonel had meant it when he'd insisted that the get-together was strictly casual.

Halfway up the walk Sam heard laughter coming from the backyard, so she detoured through the break in the bushes. Once inside, she spotted Ferretti seated in a low chair near the picnic table, several other members of his team nearby. Across from him sat Kowalsky, moodily staring into his beer while Doctor Jackson and one of SG-2's sergeants stood over the grill, apparently bickering. Two others from SG-2 were playing catch with a worn football at the far end of the yard.

Sam hesitated, noting that once again she was the only woman present. She'd hoped, when the Colonel issued his invitation, that the other members of SG's 1 and 2 would bring their families, but now realized just how impractical that was. If the families were there, there could be no discussion of the mission and its effects; and that was what this afternoon was about. Time to relax and to try to put it all into perspective. No pressure, no reports, no interference.

Still, it was hard to once again be the only "girl" at the party. Sam bit her lip and was considering simply turning around and leaving when a low voice in her year startled her.

"Not thinking of retreating, are you, Captain?"

Sam spun and found herself face-to-face with her new CO. "Uh, n-no, Sir," she stammered. "I, ah, was just getting here." She swallowed and added, "Besides, my Dad always said, 'Carter's never retreat.'"

"Sound's like your Dad's quite a guy." The Colonel grabbed her elbow and gently guided her further into the yard. "Hey folks, Captain Carter's here, looks like we can eat now." Sam nodded in return to the greetings she got from the members of both teams, easing around the side of the crowd to set down her bottle of wine.

Ferretti reached up from his chair and inspected the bottle, peering around the bandages still covering part of his face. "Nice, Captain." He waved a hand toward O'Neill. "Colonel, at least _somebody_ knows how to pick a good wine. Got an opener handy?"

Doctor Jackson, relinquishing the grill tongs to O'Neill, shook his head. "Sorry, Ferretti, no wine for you. Doctor's orders."

"You're not that kind of Doctor, Doctor." Ferretti's whine brought several chuckles from the group.

"Nope, but the Doc on the base was pretty clear." Jackson refilled Ferretti's Coke and turned to Sam. "Captain-Doctor? What can I get you?"

Sam glanced around and noticed that everyone, with the exception of Ferretti, was drinking beer. She nodded her head toward the cooler and asked, "Got any more of those handy?"

O'Neill left the grill and opened the cooler. "Sure do, I just brought back another case. Harp's or Guinness?" The Colonel's eyes held hers for a moment and Sam was sure she saw the faint sparkle of challenge in his tawny gaze. Sam bit back a smile, thinking, _Oh, Sir. You have _no_ idea how–and with whom­–I grew up. Puhleeze...Harp's?_

"I'd like a Guinness, Colonel." She paused, cocking her head slightly. She noticed most of the men drinking directly from the bottle. "That is, of course, if you're going to build it properly."

At her comment Kowalsky looked up and snorted. "Damn, Jack, she even knows how to drink _Guinness_ like an Irishman!" The men around the table laughed at Kowalsky's comment, while Sam felt herself blushing once again. _I seem to always put my foot in it._

O'Neill's voice cut through the laughter. "And a finer compliment couldn't be given, Charlie. You heathens could learn a thing or two." The Colonel gestured for Sam to follow him, handing the tongs off once again to Daniel. "Don't burn the meat, Daniel. Come with me, Captain." Without waiting, O'Neill grabbed two bottles of Guinness from the cooler and strode toward the house. Sam, with a helpless glance in Jackson's direction, quietly followed.

Stepping through the open sliding glass door, Sam saw the Colonel carefully tipping her freshly opened beer into a glass. He held the glass at an angle, slowly building the pint until the cream sat, an inch thick, atop the rich dark brew, just kissing the top of the glass. Setting the newly built drink aside, O'Neill began the process again, this time pouring into his own glass. Sam saw him watching her as she entered the room.

"Change your mind?"

"Sir?"

Nudging his chin toward her drink, O'Neill asked, "You said you wanted a properly built pint..."

Sam raised her arms in mock surprise. "And lift the glass before the drink has settled? My grandfather would spin in his grave."

The Colonel turned, resting his back against the kitchen counter as he reached and set his own pint near hers. "Well, at least you've been properly taught how to treat the world's finest brew."

"I have." Another shout of laughter rose from the backyard, pulling Sam's attention outside. "You all seem to know each other pretty well."

O'Neill shrugged. "Part of the job, I guess."

Sam felt his gaze on her as she continued to watch the others. Jackson had surrendered the grill to Sergeant Miller and was sitting next to Kowalsky, talking earnestly about something. She quirked a small smile at the sight. Doctor Jackson seemed to always be talking earnestly about _something_. Sam turned her attention back to the Colonel, realizing he was probably expecting a response.

O'Neill merely raised an eyebrow and handed her the now-settled Guinness. "I think this is good. Ready to dive in?"

Sam nodded, taking as sip of her drink before they left the kitchen. "Umm. This is great, Sir. And...probably not, but let's go."

SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ

Sam stood and stretched, easing the tight muscles in her legs. She waved as Sergeant Miller helped Ferretti across the now dark yard to his waiting car, the last of that team to leave. She wasn't able to leave until the Colonel moved his truck; he'd parked behind her when he returned from his beer run earlier. Not that Sam minded, really. The party had gone on longer than she'd anticipated, and to her surprise she found she'd enjoyed it far more than she'd expected. Despite multiple chefs and the distractions of team members coming and going, the steaks had been grilled to perfection. Accompanied by potatoes O'Neill had pulled from the back of the grill, the meal had been tasty, and a lot of fun. The others had eventually loosened up with her, including the affable Doctor "call me Daniel" Jackson; although he insisted on calling her Captain-Doctor just to rile her a bit. Sam had, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, joined in the teasing and laughter. She'd come in for her own share of ribbing, laughing with the others as Ferretti mocked her first meeting with O'Neill.

- -

"_Colonel, I was studying the 'gate technology for two years before Daniel Jackson made it work and before you both went through. I should have gone through then. But, Sir, you and your...men...might as well accept the fact that I am going through this time." _

"_Well with all due respect, Doctor, I…"_

"_It is appropriate to refer to a person by their rank, not their salutation. You should call me "Captain," not "Doctor."_

_General Hammond spoke up. "Captain Carter's assignment to this unit is not an option, it's an order."_

_Sam, after a brief nod toward Hammond in thanks, returned her gaze to O'Neill. "I'm an Air Force officer just like you are, Colonel, and just because my reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the outside, doesn't mean I can't handle whatever you can handle."_

- -

Sam grimaced at the memory as she stooped and began collecting the remainders of the team's dinner and after-dinner bonfire. _God! Who _says_ things like that? What an idiot. _She'd given as good as she'd gotten, however, even drawing the wry Kowalsky out of his funk from time to time. His dry sarcasm on the mission had bothered her, especially his intimation that she'd gone overboard in setting up the Claymore mines on the ridge. O'Neill had put in his own comments, telling Kowalsky that Sam was in charge of the "blowing things up" department from now on, as she did it so thoroughly. Sam grinned to herself, remembering how she'd felt when he'd said that. Tacit approval from her new boss...that was a good thing.

Gathering up the bits of paper plate that hadn't been burned, the now empty marshmallow bags and chocolate bar wrappings, she stuffed them into the trash bag the Colonel had brought out earlier. She shivered in the rapidly cooling evening air as she moved; once she stepped out of the range of the firepit, it really was quite chilly in the Colonel's backyard.

"Here."

Jumping to hear him so close behind her, Sam whirled. "Would you _stop_ doing that! Sir." The honorific was a bit late.

O'Neill merely raised an eyebrow, one arm extended and holding a dark sweatshirt. "Doing what, Captain?"

Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, Sam automatically reached out to take the sweatshirt. "Sneaking up on me, Sir. Can't you make some noise, or something?"

O'Neill shrugged, then reached forward to take the trash bag from her. "Nope. You know, you don't have to do this." He gathered up the last of the trash, tying the bag closed and setting it aside.

"I know. But I can't really leave, Sir."

The Colonel paused halfway between standing and sitting; he'd been about to sit on the low picnic bench that sat on one side of his firepit. "Ah...you can't?

Sam, still holding the sweatshirt he'd loaned her, stepped closer to the fire. "No, Sir. You parked me in, remember?"

"Ah." O'Neill settled himself on the bench, stretching his legs toward the fire. He gestured to the sweatshirt she was holding. "You gonna put that on, Captain?"

"Oh." Sam checked her watch. "I don't really need it, Sir. If I'm leaving."

"Got somewhere else you have to be?"

"No, Sir."

"Then sit, Captain. Take a load off." O'Neill idly poked the fire, sending sparks up into the darkening night sky.

Sam studied him for a moment, then shrugged. She slipped the borrowed sweatshirt over her head, noting that it smelled...male. She sniffed again. The Colonel didn't wear cologne, as far as she could tell, but this smelled like...him. Kind of soapy, clean...crisp. She liked the smell, she decided. _Oh please, Samantha. Get a grip. It's a sweatshirt._ Snorting a little at her own nonsense, Sam tugged the garment down her torso, then rolled up the too-long sleeves to free her hands. "Thanks, Sir. It is a bit chilly."

"No problem. So," O'Neill turned toward her. "Tell me about yourself, Captain."

"Sir?"

Waving a hand in her direction, O'Neill explained. "You enjoy a 'properly built,'" O'Neill made air quotes to emphasize his words, "Guinness. You've flown F-16's. You played with dolls–"

"Astronaut action figures."

"Ah." He made the air quotes again. "'Astronaut action figures.' You like to blow things up. You're pretty damned good in a fight. You like to arm wrestle..." O'Neill paused, looking at Sam expectantly.

"I...ah...like blue Jell-O."

"You're kidding."

"No, Sir."

"Blue?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Huh." The Colonel turned back to the fire, nudging a log with the toe of his worn hiking boot. After a long moment he glanced again at Sam. "Daniel thinks I was too hard on you."

"Sir?" Sam looked around, suddenly realizing she hadn't seen the archaeologist leave. "When did he leave, anyway?"

"He didn't. He's camped in my guest room 'till he gets his own place again."

"Oh." Sam shifted in her chair. "If you don't mind my asking, Colonel, why would Doctor Jackson care about how you interact with your Second?"

O'Neill turned to her. "Now, see? That's exactly what _I_ said to him!" He stared at her for a long moment, then dropped his gaze, turning back to the fire.

Sam studied her new CO, puzzled. She didn't get it, what was the..._oh_. "Colonel. Have you ever had a female Second before?"

"Nope, can't say that I have."

"May I ask, Sir...do you have a problem with the idea?"

"You may ask, and the answer is 'no.' I don't have any problem with it. Or you."

"Then, Sir...why are we having this discussion?" Sam dropped off of the bench and onto the ground, bringing herself nearer to the warmth of the fire. Despite the Colonel's borrowed sweatshirt she was shivering again. She glanced up at her boss to find him staring down at her. "Did you ever have these little chats with Major Kowalsky?"

"Nope."

"If I may, Sir?" Sam waited for O'Neill's nod. "Tell Doctor Jackson to stay out of it. _I'm_ fine with just being your Second, Colonel. I don't need little after-action chats to make sure my feeling's haven't been bruised. Does that work for you, Colonel?" Sam could feel herself getting riled up. It was bad enough to have to fight the ongoing anti-woman sentiment in the service, but to have a fellow scientist feel as if he had to stick up for her...

O'Neill reached down and gently patted Sam's shoulder. "Easy, Captain. That works just fine for me." He, too, eased himself off of the bench and onto the ground beside his Captain. "Daniel's had an...interesting life. Kind of sheltered. I think he felt...protective of you. Don't take it the wrong way."

Sam simply nodded. She watched as the Colonel put another large log on the fire, knowing it would take hours for wood that size to burn away. She glanced over and found him watching her, a question on his face. Sam gave a small smile and settled herself more comfortably against the bench behind her. This was good. This was nice. She felt...at home here. In Colorado Springs, in the Stargate program. If she wasn't quite accepted by everyone here, she at least felt she was by those that mattered. The others would come around or they wouldn't, either way, she was here to stay.

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, O'Neill said, "Besides, if he gets to be too much of a pain, you can always ask him to arm wrestle."

"Yes, Sir."

They were quiet for a long time, listening to the popping and spitting of the sap burning away in the log and watching as the fire slowly ate its way through the dry fuel. Sam idly watched the sparks drift up the sky and disappear in the tangle of stars overhead, content to simply sit and just...be. She was pulled back to Earth when the Colonel gently cleared his throat.

"Carter?"

"Sir?"

"Really? Blue?"

It took Sam a moment to figure out what he was asking, and when she did, she grinned into the darkness. "Yes, Sir." She paused, then asked, "You, Sir?"

"Red. The only way to go."

"Huh."

"Yeah." O'Neill's voice was soft, matching the stillness of the night. "Blue." He let out a sigh. "I guess I can work with that."

"Good to know. Sir."


	2. Leaning

A/N: Another backfiller story, for the neglected _Enemy Within_. As tempting as it was to play with the oft-fic'd option of P3X-595, where Carter "took off her..." which is where the team is en route to at the end of the episode, I wanted instead to focus on what happened with O'Neill and Kowalsky.

Set between the last two scenes of _The Enemy Within,_ on Earth.

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_**Leaning**_

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Samantha Carter eased her vintage car into the driveway, making sure to leave the sidewalk behind her clear for the little guys on their bikes to continue their racing. Stepping around to the back, she popped open the tiny trunk and pulled out a bulky but neatly wrapped package, weighing it in her hands for a minute, considering. Behind the Colonel's house the setting sun painted the sky in bold azure and red-gold stripes, casting long shadows along the street. _I probably should have called first_, she thought. She was just deciding to put the box back when nearby voice surprised her.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Sam turned from her car and was lost; her heart tumbled from her chest to land gracelessly at her feet. Sam was stunned to find herself, for the first time in her life, hopelessly in love. _So...this is the whole 'love at first sight' thing,'_ she thought, bemusedly, as she struggled to gather her wits.

At her feet was a small boy of about eight, perched haphazardly on his bike. One foot barely touching the ground to brace himself, the other leg thrown over the seat and dangling so that his foot just rested on the pedal. One knee sported a Band-Aid that didn't quite cover the raspberry that reddened his fair skin, his other knee and elbows bore evidence of past scrapes with, Sam guessed, either trees or concrete. His bright green eyes peeked out beneath a helmet that barely contained the curly strands of fiery red hair, but it was the dusting of freckles on his nose that did her in. In one single glance, Sam Carter was taken in. She squatted to put herself at eye-level with the youngster.

"With what?" She asked

A tiny chin she could imagine was formidable in its stubbornness jutted forward, toward the package she still held in her hands. "That. What's that? Is it a present for Colonel Jack?"

"Ah...Colonel Jack?"

The boy waved toward the house. "Yeah. Colonel Jack." He cocked his head sideways, then impatiently shoved the helmet out of his eyes when it slid forward, an impatient and practiced action. "Colonel Jack comes to our school, sometimes. I brung him in, for Show 'n Tell once, and now he comes to visit lots."

Enchanted, Sam could only smile. She carefully set the package down, reached up to close the trunk and then slowly straightened. As she rose, she brushed her hand along her jeans and adjusted her shirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. "That's nice of him."

"Who're you? I didn't know Colonel Jack had a girlfriend?"

Sam blushed and shook her head. "No, I'm not his...I work with him. He's my boss."

With a move so fast it startled her, the child leapt off of his bike and jumped to attention. He snapped his right hand up in a fairly close approximation of a salute and said, "Reporting for duty, sir!"

Sam chuckled, then solemnly returned the boy's salute. "At ease, airman." She bent to help him with his bike. "My name is Sam, Sam Carter."

"Sam? That's a _boy's_ name!" His tone was scornful in the way that only a little boy can manage.

"Not always. Sam is short for Samantha, at least in my case." As she helped the youngster back onto his bike, she asked, "Since you know my name, and, ah, Colonel's Jack's name, maybe you could tell me your name?"

"Oh!" The boy slapped a hand to his head. He quickly unbuckled his worn helmet and slung it over his handlebars. Then he carefully wiped his right hand along his dirty shorts and held it out to her, his eyes intent on her own. "Yeah! I mean, my name's Miles, Miles O'Hara."

Sam didn't know if it was intentional or not, but she noticed that he'd mimicked her own introduction. She smiled wider and returned his handshake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Hara."

"You don't have to call me mister, just 'Miles.' Please, though, not ever 'Miles Edward O'Hara, 'cuz that's what my mom calls me when I've been really...I mean, when she's mad. Are you a Colonel too, Sam?"

"No." She chuckled at his rapid-fire chatter. "I am a Captain."

"Oh." Miles studied her for a moment, then smiled. "Did I do the shaking okay? Colonel Jack showed me how. He said that a man always takes his hat off and looks another man in the eye when they shake. And I'm s'posed to only squeeze a little, 'cuz it's not s'posed to be arm wrestling. Only you're not a man, but I guess since you're in the Air Force too I did okay. I did, didn't I?"

Unable to resist, Sam reached out and ruffled his damp curls. "Miles, I think you did just fine."

Before he could continue his mostly one-sided conversation, a woman's voice carried down the street. Miles grimaced and waved, shouting loud enough to make Sam wince. "Coming, Miss Katie!" He slipped his helmet on and fumbled with the clasp. "I have to come when Miss Katie calls, or she gets mad. And if she's mad, my Mom gets madder." He frowned, trying to see the clip set below his chin, his tongue pushed out between his teeth in concentration. "I always get stuck in this thing!"

Sam bent down and helped him with it, her fingers brushing the soft underside of his chin as she absorbed the unique 'little boy' smell, a mixture of newly turned earth, sunshine, and freshly cut grass. It was familiar to her, and comforting, but she couldn't quite place it. With a final snick! the chin strap was in place and she tilted the helmet back to see his sparkling green eyes. Miles scrambled back onto his bike and pedaled off, waving gaily at her and shouting, "Bye Captain Sam!"

Sam stood watching him until he reached the woman who'd called his name, already missing his bright presence. She retrieved her package and turned, then jumped in surprise to find herself face-to-face with Colonel O'Neill.

"Oh!"

"Engaging little guy, isn't he?"

Sam's surprise eased as she watched the Colonel watching the small boy chatter happily with 'Miss Katie.' "Yes, Sir. I think I'm in love."

"He's an easy little guy to like."

O'Neill's face was soft as he watched his little neighbor chat with his babysitter, the expression on his face one Carter was unused to seeing. Sam nodded and when he turned his gaze toward her, she said, "He said you taught him how to shake hands?"

"I did." With Miles out of sight O'Neill was suddenly direct, to the point. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

Sam was startled by his abruptness, but understood it. The past week had been...awful. Kowalsky...Sam shuddered, remembering the look on the Colonel's face as he knelt on the ramp at Kowalsky's side.

- -

_Sam slammed her ID card into the reader, squeezing through the doorway as soon as there was room, elbowing aside the armed security personnel and running up the ramp. She felt Daniel behind her and heard his swift intake of breath as they took in the scene before them. Kowalsky lay sprawled on his back, and the back of his head...Sam grimaced and looked away, desperately searching for something else upon which to focus. It was O'Neill's face that pulled her. The pain in it._

_As she stood there he'd slowly lifted his gaze from the body of his friend, his eyes wandering around the gateroom, searching for something...anything. She watched as they quickly lit on one thing and flickered to another, not resting anywhere for too long. Finally, they landed on her and...stayed. She returned his gaze, pouring her sadness at his loss and as much strength as she could into the look. She didn't know this man very well, her new CO, but she knew in that instant that she would do everything she could to be there for him, to provide some sort of anchor for him as he worked through his loss._

- -

"Carter?" O'Neill's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Sorry, Colonel. I, ah, have something..." Sam hefted the box in her hands.

"Hmm. It's not my birthday..." O'Neill waved her toward the side yard. "Might as well come on through to the back. I was just..." The Colonel's voice trailed off as he lead her around the side of the house, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Sam followed her CO into his backyard, noting that he had a roaring fire going in the firepit at the bottom of the yard. She quickly looked around but didn't see anyone else. "I'm sorry, Colonel, am I interrupting something?"

O'Neill glanced between Carter and the firepit in confusion. "What?" Comprehension dawned. "Oh, no. Nothing going on. I just felt like..." O'Neill shrugged. "Can I get you a beer?"

"Sure."

"Make yourself comfortable." The Colonel waved her toward the roaring fire while he disappeared inside. He emerged a minute or so later holding two full pint glasses, and Sam smiled briefly at the sight, remembering the team bar-b-que a few weeks earlier. Of course he would build her a Guinness. She watched as he carefully set both glasses on the picnic bench behind them and sat himself down next to her on the worn cushion on the ground between the bench and the firepit.

Despite the warmth of the day, the fire was a welcome source of heat. Once the sun dipped behind Pike's Peak, the Colorado evenings were still quite cool this early in the spring. Sam nervously pulled the package she'd brought with her into her lap, fidgeting with the plain brown wrapping, then with the twine tied around it, unsure of how to proceed.

O'Neill sat beside her, sipping his beer and studying the fire. Finally he turned to her. "Carter...I am assuming you didn't come to give yourself a present? Or for my less-than-sparkling company?"

"No, Sir. It's just...well, this isn't from me, Colonel."

"No?"

"No, Sir. See, General Hammond stopped me this afternoon, after the funer– ah, I mean, after we buried Ma­–"

"It's okay, you know Captain. You can say his name."

Sam ducked her head. "I know, Colonel. It's just...I know you two were good friends." She took a deep breath. "Like I said, the General asked me to give you this. Said that the Major asked him to take care of it, but General Hammond felt that...well, he said that it should come from a member of the team." Awkwardly Sam lifted the bulky box off of her lap, handing it to her CO after he'd set aside his glass.

"What is it"

"I don't know, Sir. It was wrapped when I got it."

O'Neill took the box from her and balanced it on his own knees. He tugged at the bow, unraveling it and slowly untangling it from the box, then tossed the string into the fire. Slipping a finger under the tape holding the brown wrapping in place, he flipped the paper off, revealing a plain brown box labeled, 'FIELD RATIONS – 60 – INDIVIDUALLY PACKAGED – B-FAST – HC-OM.' "I, ah, don't recall ordering any field rations."

"Especially not the ham and cheese omelet, Sir." They exchanged a mutual grimace at what had to be the world's worst freeze-dried ration pack.

"Especially that." O'Neill pulled out his pocket knife and cut through the tape holding closed the flaps of the ten by ten box. Lifting one side, he bit back an oath once he caught sight of the box's contents.

"Sir?" Sam watched in surprise as the Colonel almost angrily set the box aside and strode off into the growing darkness. She wasn't sure what to do. Glancing in the direction her CO had disappeared, she leaned forward and peeked inside. Nestled there amongst packets of coffee was a compact Bose stereo. It seemed an odd way to package a gift, and she still didn't know from whom the gift had come. Still seeing no sign of the Colonel she opened the other flap of the box, pulling out the note she found there. As she read it, her eyes filled with tears.

_Hey Jack,_

_If you're reading this, the little snake bastard won in the end. I know you've got to be feeling like crap about now, but I want you to know that __I__ know you probably did everything you could. _

_We've known each other for a long time, Jack and I want you to know how much our friendship has meant to me. I also wanted you to know that I will look out for your boy. I couldn't be there for my Godson when he – and you – needed me, but I can look out for him now. _

_You have a good team under you now, don't be afraid to lean on them once in a while. Took you long enough to do that with me – don't wait so long with this group._

_I figure Puccini should sound amazing on this thing...enjoy it. _

_Charlie K._

_P.S. The coffee is for Doctor Jackson – I couldn't stand to use what originally came in the box!_

"I asked for the damned thing." O'Neill's voice was rough, and it startled her, coming from so close.

"Oh!" Sam was mortified to have been caught reading Kowalsky's note. "I'm so sorry, Colonel, I–"

O'Neill waved at her, brushing aside her words. "Relax, Sam. It's okay." He gently took the note from her and read it as he reseated himself on the cushion. He shook his head as he carefully refolded the note and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt. Lifting the box again into his lap, he pulled out the plastic wrapped compact stereo. "This. I joked with him just before his operation...that if he didn't make it, could I have it?"

"I'm so sorry, Colonel."

"Me too."

They sat in silence, Sam again unsure of her next move, Colonel O'Neill just staring at the stereo in his hands, his eyes far away. Finally Sam took a deep breath and began to rise.

"I should go, Colonel." She stopped when O'Neill placed a hand on her arm.

"I...if you have to, Captain..."

Sam studied him for a minute, then sank back onto cushion. "I don't _have_ to, Colonel, I just figured you'd want to be alone."

O'Neill lifted his gaze from the box to her face, his brown eyes warm in the light of the fire he'd built. "No."

"Okay." Sam studied him for a moment. She could see flecks of gold and amber in his expressive eyes, still warm despite his pain. Sitting this close to him, she could smell that scent that was unique to him, an odd combination of earth, sunshine, and...her breath caught. Freshly cut grass. That's why little Miles had smelled so...familiar...to her. His 'little boy' smell reminded her of her CO, although there were deeper overtones to the Colonel's scent than Miles would ever have. Sam took a deep breath and closed her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate. It was dangerous to equate her Colonel with adorable little boys, and even more dangerous to be appreciating...nay..._savoring_...said Colonel's scent.

Sam opened her eyes to find O'Neill staring at her quizzically. She gave him a brief smile before turning to rest her back against the bench behind her. She deliberately reached for the pint he'd built for her earlier and took a long, soothing drink. Wiping the creamy foam from her lips she asked gently, "Colonel? Would you mind telling me about Major Kowalsky?" She had so many questions, beginning with Kowalsky's comment about 'his boy,' but wasn't sure how to go about getting answers. The direct approach seemed to be something the Colonel would appreciate.

O'Neill set the box aside and reached again for his own drink. He, too, took a long pull from the glass then set it aside in favor of his fire-poking stick. He tossed another log onto the already large fire, poking and sliding it until he was satisfied with its position. He looked over his shoulder to find Sam patiently watching him, waiting for him to begin.

"I met Charlie Kowalsky nearly fifteen years ago..."

Sam pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her head atop knees, then turned her face toward her CO and settled down to listen. She let the cadence and rhythm of his voice wash over her while the fire burned and the night crept slowly on, content to simply be there. For him.


	3. Freedom of a Different Sort

Set during _Emancipation._

-----------

_**Freedom of a Different Sort**_

-----------

The pop and crackle of the fire drew Jack's attention from the celebrating villagers and he shifted again on the log upon which he was perched. He watched Daniel work his way through the crowd, knowing the archaeologist was in his element. New people, new cultures. Behind Jack Teal'c sat silently, taking in everything.

A nudge at his elbow brought Jack's attention back to the small man beside him. Smiling a broad, nearly toothless grin, the old man was passing a plate laden with still more meat. Jack started to wave him off then thought again. With a nod to his dinner companion, he took the plate and rose to his feet, his knees popping once or twice as he moved.

"I'm gonna check in on Carter. Keep an eye on our boy, will you?"

Teal'c nodded his assent, his eyes immediately tracking to Daniel.

With an absentminded pat to Teal'c's shoulder, Jack stepped away from the men around the fire and made his way to the tent where he'd left Carter. He figured she'd be out of her mind with boredom by now.

Sam looked up as the entryway to the tent rustled again, expecting to see yet another curious woman poking her head in. That had been going on all night. A small, dark-haired head would pop in, look her over from head to toe and pop back out, followed by barely-concealed giggles. It was getting old. Temporary 'anthropologist' or not, and future cultural relations aside, the next time it happened she was going to lob her boot at the door. The rustling stopped, but that didn't stop her from reaching over and snagging her discarded boot. No harm in having it handy. She turned her attention back to her notebook.

"'Bring an all male team next time.'" She snorted softly. "Over my dead body. Sir."

"Excuse me?"

O'Neill's soft voice startled her and Sam snapped her head up, her attention back on the door. _Shit, hope he didn't hear that._

"Uh, sir?"

"Sorry, Carter, I thought I heard you say something about 'over your dead body'?"

Sitting up further on the cushions that made up her bed, Sam felt a hot flush color her cheeks. She watched as her CO entered and settled himself on the edge of her pile of cushions, carefully balancing a plate of food on his knee. Colonel Jack O'Neill. He was still an enigma to her. Despite nearly two months of serving together, she was having a hard time getting a handle on what made him tick.

What she knew of him she knew by reputation only, and very little personal experience. He was smarter than he let on and fiercely loyal to those with whom he served. He'd humored her during her disastrous encounter with the local brew on P3X-595 when he could just as easily have thrown the book at her. And that thing with Kowalsky... She remembered standing in the control room, Charlie Kowalsky holding her close, his hand covering her mouth, and seeing a flash of shock and fear fly across the Colonel's face. Whether it was a reaction to seeing a member of his own team being threatened or a trusted friend doing the threatening, she wasn't sure. She could still hear his voice as he shouted at the SP's, ordering them not to shoot as Kowalsky dragged her to the gateroom, knowing that his concern was for both her and the sick Major. Sam also knew he'd been more devastated then he'd let on by Major Kowalsky's death. She flashed back to the locker room at the SGC...

_Carter strode into the locker room and stopped, caught by the sight of Colonel O'Neill wiping his eyes with his sleeve. There was no way she could gracefully leave without making either of them more uncomfortable, so she slowly stepped forward, letting the door close behind her._

"_Sorry, Colonel. I, ah, didn't know you were here."_

_O'Neill kept his back to her as he gently placed a small box back into his locker. He cleared his throat, grabbed his ball cap and turned to leave._

_Carter jumped as O'Neill slammed his locker closed. She waited until he was nearly to the door before speaking up._

"_Sir?"_

_O'Neill froze, his hand on the knob and his back to the room. _

"_Yes, Captain?"_

_Now that she'd stopped him, she wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to. She set the gear she was carrying down onto the bench and turned back to O'Neill. She approached her CO and ducked her head uncomfortably._

"_I'm...uh, I am sorry about Major Kowalsky, Sir." She watched as O'Neill stiffened at her words and knew she probably shouldn't have said anything. Too late now. "He, ah, seemed like a really great guy, and–"_

"_Carter?" O'Neill cut her off, yanking open the door to the locker room. "He was, and...thanks."_

O'Neill cleared his throat, watching Carter's eyes as she snapped her gaze to his, pulling her from her thoughts. He held out the plate of food he'd brought along.

"Thought you might be hungry."

"Thanks." She took the plate and began picking at the food. "I guess the women get to eat after the men, so...yeah, I'm hungry. Thank you, Colonel."

"You all right?"

Carter shrugged, her attention on her food. Beside her, O'Neill shifted, trying not to slide off of the slippery cushions and onto the floor.

"Look," he gestured to the tent in which she was confined. "I'm really sorry about this."

"Are you? Sir?" She knew the honorific was added a little too late for courtesy but hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Sure I am, why?"

"It's just that...you know...maybe next time, the 'all male team,' and all that..."

"Aw, c'mon, Captain. I was _kidding_. You know that."

Carter set aside her now empty plate and cocked her head, her wide blue eyes studying her CO.

"Well, no Sir. I didn't. I mean, I thought you were, but..." She shrugged. "Sorry. Maybe it's just the dress, or the attitudes here, but I'm feeling a bit..." Sam trailed off, looking around the tent. Anywhere but at her commanding officer.

"Left out?"

"Vulnerable, I guess."

"Well, it's certainly not the dress."

Carter's head snapped up and she studied O'Neill's face, not sure if he'd heard him correctly. For his part, the Colonel seemed suddenly focused on the tassle that dangled from a nearby pillow. She glanced down at her attire, seeing it for the first time as it was, a beautiful dress that complimented her coloring, and not just as a symbol of her status within the society in which they were camping.

O'Neill cleared his throat and glanced at her. "Sorry, Captain, that was out of line."

Carter shook her head and felt a soft smile steal across her lips. "No, sir, it wasn't." She ducked her head, her gaze fropping away from his. "And...thank you."

"You know when I made that crack about the all-male team that I wasn't doubting you, right? I mean, despite what you said."

"Really?"

"Captain..." O'Neill paused, then started again. "Carter...after our experience with Apophis, how could I _possibly_ doubt your abilities as a member of my team? Do you really believe that?"

"I...no, I guess not. Sorry, Colonel."

"Don't worry about it."

O'Neill studied her for a moment, then leaned back against the cushions and stretched his legs out before him. He nudged one of her boots aside and crossed his feet at the ankles, a picture of relaxation. Beside him sat one of the most intelligent, capable officers with whom he'd ever served and she was looking to him for reassurance. He shook his head, a bit disgusted with himself. He shouldn't have made the crack about the all male team; he didn't know her well enough to make cracks like that. They were getting there, but not quite yet. Through eyes slitted mostly closed, he watched as Carter followed his example and leaned back, adjusting the yards of material of skirt around her legs. The drums outside continued to pound as the party outside carried on, reminding O'Neill of the party the natives of P3X-595 had thrown for their team. At least Carter had been allowed to stay and party with the team then. O'Neill smothered a quick grin at the effect the local fermented drink had had on his Second.

"What's so funny, sir?"

"Nothing, Captain. Nothing at all."

"You don't have to stay here, Colonel. You know, keep me company. I really _am_ fine here on my own."

"Kicking me out, Captain?"

"Ah, no sir. I just meant­–"

"I know what you meant, Carter. For now, I'm right where I want to be."

Carter watched her CO for another moment as he closed his eyes again. His impossibly long eyelashes brushed his cheeks and caught the light as he tilted his head back. She didn't often have this chance, to sit and study him, and she took advantage of the opportunity

"Colonel?"

"Carter?"

Carter leaned all the way back into the cushions, mimicking the Colonel's pose. Her fur-covered foot brushed O'Neill's as she stretched and she didn't move it, enjoying the brief connection with someone familiar, someone who knew who she was and what she could do.

"Thanks for dinner."

"Anytime."


	4. Torn

**A/N Update: I adjusted this story because, as one astute reviewer pointed out, I made a rather oblique reference to **_**Solitudes**_**, which has not yet happened! Thanks Cags!**

Set following _The Broca Divide_.

-----------

_**Torn**_

-----------

Sam hissed as she ducked inside of the small cave, glad to finally be out of the driving, relentless rain. Not that the tiny space provided much in the way of shelter, but it would at least keep the direct rain off of them. With her attention focused on ducking into the small space and protecting her side, she failed to notice just _how_ short the cave was and subsequently ran smack into her CO.

"Ooh"

"Ow! Carter!"

"Sorry Colonel, I...uh oh."

"Uh oh?" O'Neill glanced around the eight-by-five space, looking for danger. Aside from their sodden packs, they were alone in the cave. The remainder of their team were huddled in another nearby alcove, doing their best to get dry. O'Neill turned back to Carter, surprised to find her on her knees. "Carter?"

Sam winced as his tug on her shoulder pulled her side. She lifted her hand from her side, unsurprised to find it covered in blood.

"Carter! What the hell happened?" The Colonel immediately eased her pack off of her shoulders and helped her sit down, using his own body to shield her from the blowing dampness. Outside the storm raged on, accented by flashes of lightning and very loud crashes of thunder. He rummaged in his own pack for a moment before giving up in disgust and reaching into his own pocket and pulling out a neatly folded handkerchief. Without waiting for her assistance, O'Neill began tugging Carter's shirt free of her trousers and belt, his only goal to stop her bleeding.

Slightly stunned by his sudden action, Sam finally got herself together and laid a hand on the Colonel's hand, stilling his movement. "Colonel, it's okay."

"It's not okay, dammit, you're bleeding!"

"Colonel." Sam gripped his hand with hers, wincing at the blood covering her skin. "I'm _fine_. I just pulled my stitches, I think." She eased the handkerchief out of his hands and slipped it inside of her shirt, pressing it firmly against the still-healing knife wound in her side.

"Stitches?" Still hovering over her, O'Neill's puzzled expression overtook his concern.

"Yes, Sir. Remember? The, ah, Land of Light...Broca virus..." Sam ducked her head, still unable to look him in the eye when discussing her actions during their time under the influence of the virus that reduced almost the entire base to cave people. She cleared her throat. "Ah, anyway...Lieutenant Ellis thought that I was interested in Sergeant Sullivan and...ah..."

"Ah." O'Neill eased back onto his haunches, one hand still resting on Carter's knee. "I thought Fraiser cleared you for offworld duty?"

"She did, Colonel." Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying to reposition without further pulling her stitches. "Since this was supposed to be a simple survey, we both figured..."

"Well, you figured wrong!"

"Sir?" Sam was surprised by his outburst. "It's really okay, Sir. The lower stitches weren't quite ready to come out, and I'd have been fine except for that last sprint up the hill." Sam shrugged. "Daniel went ahead of me and the branch of that tree snapped back...I slipped in the mud trying to duck and ran right into the stump." She studied her CO, trying to figure out just how angry he was. "Really, Colonel, I'm fine. Just..." she gestured to her hand and blood-soaked t-shirt and BDU overshirt.

The Colonel was silent for a long moment, studying her, his thoughts far away. It wasn't until he saw Carter shiver that he snapped out of it. "Well, what's done is done. Let's work on getting warm. You okay there for now?"

Sam struggled to sit up, reaching for her pack. "I'm good, Colonel. I can help with–"

"Oh, for cryin'–_sit_, dammit!" With not-so-gentle pressure, O'Neill pushed Sam back down. "I am perfectly capable of setting up camp, Carter. Your job is to sit and not bleed on anything. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

His first priority was obviously warmth, and with that in mind, O'Neill pulled out the thin space blankets that were a part of their emergency packs. He wrapped one tightly around Sam, spending more time than was probably strictly necessary making sure the ends were tucked securely behind her back, between her and the cave wall. "Okay?"

Sam opened her eyes, slightly startled to find his face so close to hers. Even in the growing darkness of the dying day, she could make out his features, could see the amber warmth in his concerned brown eyes. Sam sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent mixed so tantalizingly with her own, the aroma appealing and alluring despite the overtones of wet cotton and canvas that threatened to overpower the rest. Realizing he was still waiting for her to answer, Sam nodded, not trusting her voice.

With a final pat to her shoulder, Jack rose, then spit out an oath as his head collided with the ceiling. "Damn, but this place was built for Fraiser!"

"You okay, Colonel?"

The Colonel pulled his hand from behind his head, squinting in the rapidly dimming light. "Yeah, no blood. Unlike some Captains I could mention. Let me," he began, "get a fire going and we'll get out of our wet clothes." O'Neill paused, cocking his head at her as he realized what he'd said. "Ah, Carter...you know what I meant."

Smothering a giggle, Sam nodded. "Yes, Colonel."

A few minutes later O'Neill swore under his breath again as the small branches and twigs he'd managed to salvage from near the cave's entrance stubbornly failed to light. Finally giving up in disgust, he glanced over at his Second. "Time for plan B, Carter."

"Yes, S-sir." Sam was unable to stop teeth from chattering.

"C'mon." The Colonel pulled her pack closer and began fishing through it. He pulled out her spare BDU trousers and a new overshirt, then glanced over at her. "I'm going to assume you want to pull out the rest of your gear?"

Fighting back a blush, Carter said, "Yes, Colonel. Thanks. I'll be pretty focused here if you want to get changed. O'Neill nodded at her and turned to his own bag. There was just enough light left for Sam to watch as he made a small pile of dry clothes next to his own bag, then rose, still stooping, and began to unbutton his still sodden overshirt. She quickly focused on her own bag, but not before she caught a flash of lean, tanned shoulders and a well-muscled back outlined so distinctively by his wet t-shirt. Making her own pile, Sam carefully pushed aside the space blanket and finished the job of unbuttoning her BSU shirt that the Colonel had begun earlier. As she tried to ease it off over her shoulders, she felt another stitch pop free in her side and was unable to bite back a hiss of pain. "God."

"Carter?" O'Neill kept his back to her as he quickly pulled up his dry trousers. Hearing nothing, he half-turned, keeping his eyes averted. "Carter, if you don't answer, I'm gonna come over there."

"I...I'm...okay, Sir. Just moved wrong."

"Can I turn around?"

"Yes. I haven't really gotten that far." Sam shivered again, unable to hide the action as O'Neill turned around.

"Okay, that's it. I'm lighting the Sterno. While that's heating we'll get you changed." Putting action to his words, the Colonel quickly set up the small stove, pulling what he needed from both his and Carter's bags. He set the tiny stove up along one small wall of the cave, hoping it would be sheltered enough from the wind to stay lit. Pouring water from his canteen into the small collapsible pot, he set it atop the grid and then turned to Sam. He stepped across the small space, the dancing flame from the Sterno fuel lighting the cave with a subtle blue cast. Keeping his eyes on hers, he asked, "Ready?"

"Yes. Colonel? Maybe if you just dried and dressed the wound, I'll be good to do the rest."

"How do you figure?"

"I think it just needs stabilizing. It's not torn open too badly, not that I can tell in this light, but...some steri-strips ought to keep it from pulling more and let me be able to change."

"Fine." He glanced around. "Where's the first aid kit?"

They stared at each other for a moment before both said simultaneously, "Daniel."

"Crap."

"Yes, Sir. I'm really sor–"

"Save it, Carter." O'Neill reached for his discarded vest and keyed his mic. "Daniel!"

"_Jack?"_

"Are you still soggy?"

"_I...what? We're trying to get a fire lit but..."_

"Yeah, us too. Listen, Daniel. Are you still wet?"

"_Of course I'm still wet, Jack! It's raining small animals out here!"_

The Colonel threw up his hands, giving Sam an exasperated look, which she returned with a grin and a shrug of her own, wincing despite herself.

"Daniel. If you haven't changed clothes yet, can you swing by and drop off the med kit?"

"_Uh...sure. Just a moment."_

Tumbling rocks and muttered curses heralded Daniel's arrival at the entrance to their small cave. He stepped inside, just enough to get out of the windblown rain. Spotting Sam huddled against the far wall of the cave, he started forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Jack?"

"Daniel." The Colonel pulled the dripping med kit from Daniel's hands before turning him around and propelling him back out of the cave. "Sorry, Daniel, there just simply is _not_ enough room here for all three of us. Call when you get home."

"Um, okay." Glancing again at Sam as he pulled his collar up, Daniel asked, "Sam? You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, Daniel. Go on." Sam's attention was focused on the first aid kit in the Colonel's hands; she was already anticipating a relief from the constant pulling at her side.

O'Neill was by her side before the sounds of Daniel's exit faded. "C'mon, Captain. It'll be easier if you stretch out."

"Yes, Sir."

The Colonel pulled another shirt out of his bag, bunching it up for use as an impromptu pillow. "Let's get this off, first, okay?" Without waiting, he gently slipped the BDU overshirt off of her shoulders. He then supported her back, taking some of the strain off of her abs as she eased down onto the floor of the cave. "Good?"

"Yes, Sir." Sam grimaced as she pulled her t-shirt up, revealing his now blood-dyed handkerchief. She pulled it up, pulling at the newly clotted wound, biting back another hiss of pain.

"Easy," murmured the Colonel, his attention focused on gently cleaning the tear, trying to clean enough blood off to allow the steri-strips to stick to her skin. "Damn, Sam. I think you actually hit the stump dead-on with your owie."

"Yeah." Sam lifted her chin, determinedly not looking at the injury. She focused instead on his face as he tended her, taking the rare opportunity to study her enigmatic CO at this close range. His hands were gentle as he bathed the wound in warm water, using his already wet and recently discarded t-shirt to do the job. Sam hissed again, this time as his hand strayed a bit too high and brushed the underside of her breast.

"Damn. Sorry, did I hurt you?"

Sam could only shake her head as she fought for control of her emotions. _Get a grip, Samantha. The man is wiping _blood_ off of you, you idiot!_ Despite her internal lecture, Sam couldn't help but flash back to the week before and their experience with the virus; the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her shoulders, and later...his lips on her neck as they both fell to the floor. A wave of desire flashed through her as the Colonel once again accidentally brushed his hand against the underside of her breast and this time she couldn't bite back a moan.

"Carter?" O'Neill's hands stilled and he glanced up at her face.

Sam couldn't hide the flush that suffused her skin and she struggled for control. She opened her mouth to explain, but O'Neill's voice stopped her.

"I'm sorry, Carter. I should have had Daniel do this. I didn't think about you being embarr–"

"No, Colonel, it's okay." Sam carefully sucked in a breath. "Are you...are you almost done, Sir?"

O'Neill continued to stare at her, his eyes searching hers for a long moment. Finally he nodded and finished his work on her side. "I'm about...there. That should hold at least until we get back to the SGC tomorrow."

"Sir?"

"We head back at first light, Captain."

"But..."

"No discussion." O'Neill cleaned up the remains of his repair work. "Can you manage on your own now?"

Sam sat up, gingerly testing her range of motion with her newly-taped wound. It pulled some, but with the support of the Colonel's taping and bandaging, she could manage. "I'm good, Sir. If you'll give me a few minutes..."

"Sure. I'll start on dinner."

The close quarters of their temporary shelter made it impossible for her to stay out of his way, but Sam managed to squeeze into one side of the cave and eventually wiggle into dry clothes. She breathed a sigh of relief as she eased back down against the back wall, carefully positioning herself to avoid the still blowing wind and rain.

"Better?"

"Yes, Sir. Thanks."

"No problem." O'Neill handed Sam a heavy-duty bag containing her reconstituted meal. Sam took a tentative bit, trying not to grimace. "Broccoli and chicken casserole?"

"Sorry. Must've grabbed the wrong box."

"'S okay, Sir. It's surprisingly good."

"I think your wound is making you delirious Carter."

- - -

Four hours later and the storm, instead of easing off as Sam had hoped, had actually increased in intensity. Sam shivered as she tried to sleep, her eyes wide open in the dark. She was wearing every piece of dry clothing she'd brought with her and was completely cocooned in her sleeping bag and still...she shivered again. _It's not _that_ cold,_ she thought.

"It's not _that_ cold."

O'Neill's voice startled her, despite the fact that he'd spoken very softly. He'd said exactly what she'd been thinking, _when_ she'd been thinking it. Sam gave another shiver, this time not related to the cold.

"Carter?"

"S-sir?"

"You okay?"

"Just...cold, Sir."

"I'm sorry this isn't one of our usual toasty fires." O'Neill's voice was full of regret. "Want something warm to drink? Maybe that'll help."

Sam sighed. "No, Sir. 'Cause then I'll have to get up and go to...no thanks."

"Ah." O'Neill was silent for a moment.

Sam shivered again, this time unable to stop her teeth from chattering.

"That's it." A faint shuffling sound filled the cave, almost indiscernible above the noise of the driving storm. "There's no need for you to shiver all night."

"Sir?

"Since I can't light a decent campfire here, we're gonna have to cuddle."

"Cuddle?" she squeaked.

"Just pretend I'm somebody else, Captain." O'Neill paused and then asked, "Would you, ah, rather I called Daniel over here?"

"No, Sir. It's fine. You're...fine."

"Great. Now, Captain, scoot over."

"Yes, Sir." Sam listened as he rearranged his bag and space blanket, draping the latter over both of their bodies as he slid back into his bag, now pressed against hers. She couldn't deny feeling warmer, that was for certain, and, if she was really honest with herself, she really didn't want to pretend he was anyone else.

"Better?"

This time Sam could feel his breath on her cheek and she valiantly tried to suppress another shudder, this one not the result of any cold air or burgeoning infection, she knew. "Yes, Colonel. Better."

_Much better._

'Shut up,' Sam ordered the voice in her head.

They lay silently for a while, listening to the whistling of the wind outside, unconsciously pressing closer together with each flash of lighting and crash of thunder. Eventually O'Neill spoke up, his voice carrying a gentle teasing tone. "Guess this rules out the tank top, then, eh?"

"Colonel?"

"Well, you said the wound would barely leave a scar."

Sam felt his shrug against her shoulder and she closed her eyes, knowing what was coming. "Sir..."

"I'm just saying. Tearing it open probably means you'll have a scar. Which means..."

Giving up on any semblance of propriety, Sam chuckled into the darkness. "Oh, don't worry, Sir. I'm sure I'll manage to wear that tank top at least once more in my career."

"I'm counting on it, Sam."


	5. Gods and Monsters

Set during _The First Commandment_

--

_**Gods and Monsters**_

--

O'Neill settled in, his back against a tree, as the rest of his team began to disperse following the attack by the natives. Connor was gone, lost in the dark to the men who'd launched their quick strike against their camp. The whine of the zipper on Daniel's tent seemed loud to him in the suddenly still night, and he wasn't the only one to jump at the sound. Carter, still sitting by the fire, elbows propped on knees, her chin resting on her clenched fists, started almost violently at the sound.

The soft light of the dying fire made her features stand out sharply, almost as harsh as they were when she...they...were infected by the Caveman virus a month before. O'Neill watched as she sighed and closed her eyes, slipping her head down to rest against her hands.

Glancing around the campsite, O'Neill saw Teal'c settle into his meditative kel'no'reem position outside of Carter's tent again. Already he could hear the soft sounds of Daniel's snores and despite the grimness of their situation, he shook his head with a small smile.

Turning his attention once again to his Second, O'Neill stood and joined her at the fire. Taking the stick Teal'c had used to poke it earlier, he began to play with the dying flames.

Carter sat in silence, watching the darkness chase the light across the cold as air circulated around the embers.

"You okay, Carter?" O'Neill's soft voice barely carried to her, despite them sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed.

She answered just as quietly, loathe to disturb the others.

"Yes, Sir. Fine."

Carter waited a moment, then realized she owed her CO an apology.

"Sir? I'd like to apologize. For before, I mean."

O'Neill tilted his head in question.

"I've ah...never just said _no_ to an order before so..."

"Ah." A few more pokes at the fire. "Well, let's not make a habit of it, shall we?"

"No, Sir."

The two sat in silence, their shoulders brushing occasionally as O'Neill poked and prodded the flames. Carter was comforted by his nearness, more than she wanted to admit to herself. Despite his joking with her after she was infected with the virus O'Neill called the "Caveman virus," she was still slightly uncomfortable being alone with the Colonel. She was very aware that of all the men at the SGC that she could have chosen while under its influence, she'd chosen her CO–a huge no-no in her books.

Janet had reassured her that it was Sam's own instinctual need to choose the strongest male for mating and protection that had driven her choice, but Carter wasn't buying it. Not for a minute. If she was after 'biggest and strongest provider,' Teal'c would have been the logical choice. Or O'Malley from the Marine unit. Even Sullivan would have suited more. All three were big, hulking specimens of male physique. O'Neill, for all that he was still in shape and cut quite a figure in his dress uniform...Carter shook her head, forcing her mind to jump that train of thought.

"What?"

O'Neill's voice startled her out of her thoughts.

"Nothing. Just thinking about...Captain Hansen. Jonas."

O'Neill turned to face her, half of his face lit by the firelight, the other in deep shadow. He studied his Captain, noting the soft flush coloring her features. The fire wasn't high enough to bring that color to her skin, but he wasn't going to point that out.

"What can you tell me?"

Carter sighed. She didn't want to talk about this, but knew she needed to. She took a deep breath and began, telling O'Neill everything she knew of her ex fiancé's personality, how he was likely to respond.

"...was actually okay when I gave him back the ring. I mean, he was mad, hurt, I guess, but... Anyway, when we met up at the SGC a few months back, he seemed okay."

"I can't imagine being just 'okay' with losing..." O'Neill trailed off, realizing he was more tired than he thought. "He likes being in control, you said?"

"Yeah, he's...well, he's scary sometimes, you know?"

O'Neill frowned and shifted closer, leaning in to catch Carter's gaze, forcing her to look at him. He hoped she wasn't saying what he thought she was.

"Carter? Did he...hurt you?"

"Yes...no. Not really, not..." Carter shifted, uncomfortably. "Colonel, it's just that Jonas...Captain Hansen, he likes, he _needs_ to be in charge. In control. Sometimes he'd yell and get, well, physical. Not _that_," she said, reacting to her CO's startled look. "He needs to be the _man_, the one in charge." She lapsed into silence lost once again in her thoughts.

O'Neill let her sit, turning his gaze back toward the fire once again. As he turned, he settled his shoulder more firmly against Carter's. He felt her slowly push back against him, leaning into the subtle comfort he was offering.

Very softly he spoke up. "You know I'm going to need to use your information, use..._you_ to get to him. I'm sorry for that, but I have to use every tool I have."

"I know, Sir."

"Just don't forget that you're a part of _this_ team, a part of..._us_ now. You don't owe Captain Hansen anything."

"Yes, Sir."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Carter yawned and rocked her neck back and forth, loosening the kinks. She rose, using the Colonel's shoulder as a steadying brace. Unconsciously he reached up and patted her hand.

"Good night, Carter. Remember, we've got your six."

"Yes, Sir. And Sir? I won't let you down."

O'Neill kept his hand over hers, holding it to his shoulder until she looked down at him. Her eyes were luminous in the dying glow of the fire as she gazed down at him. For just a moment O'Neill let himself drop into those eyes, wanting to ease the sadness that lingered from their talk, from her knowledge that someone she once loved could do so much harm to innocents. He knew she felt things deeply, passionately. He'd known that from their first meeting, when she'd challenged him to arm wrestle. When she gave, she gave her all, and this time the person to whom she'd given a great deal was a threat. How could she think he'd ever be worried that she'd let him down? It wasn't in her to do so.

"Carter...Sam. I am not, for one second, worried that you'll let me down. Never forget that."

Carter blinked back tears and quickly pulled her hand from under the Colonel's. She blinked rapidly, hoping he hadn't noticed her sudden weakness.

"Thank you, Sir. That means...everything."

O'Neill nodded silently in understanding as she turned and disappeared into the night. He listened as she quietly crawled into her tent, then turned his attention to the silent night beyond their fire.


	6. The Very Young

A/N: Sorry for any confusion, this story is #3, and _Perchance to Dream_ is now #4. Blame it on the DVD mix-up of the order of episodes.

Set during _The Nox_

--

_**The Very Young...**_

--

O'Neill stood frozen, his eyes on the small boy laid out on the other side of the fire. Close...it was too close. Nafrayu's pose was eerily similar to Charlie's, as he'd been laid out in his...

_No. Not another little boy. Damn._

He reached blindly into the pile for another shaft, his other hand pulling out a string to fasten the feathers to the end. His movements were jerky and automatic, his eyes locked on the tableau before him. So focused was he that he didn't hear Carter's approach.

"Sir?" Carter's voice was soft, in deference to the ceremony going on before them.

"Captain?"

"Ah...Teal'c's back."

"Fine."

Carter shuffled her feet in the dirt, stirring the mulch and releasing the mossy scent of the forest. She hesitated, knowing that her next words could rightly earn her a verbal slap from O'Neill. Crossing the line seemed to be something she was doing more and more with her Colonel; however, the pain etched across his face as he stared at the young boy made the gamble worth it.

"He's going to be okay, Sir."

"You don't know that, Captain!"

Despite expecting it, Carter's head jerked back at the Colonel's snarl. No, she _didn't_ know Nafrayu was going to be okay, but she...God, she needed to believe it. That little boy reminded her so much of her nephew. He'd been so sweet when he'd introduced himself to her, laying his small hand on her shoulder. Across the fire, the Nox's humming increased in intensity, reminding her of their own seemingly miraculous recovery.

For a second she flashed back to when Daniel woke her, after the Nox had healed her.

"_Colonel?" Frantically she ran her fingers over O'Neill's back, encountering only smooth skin where she _knew_ she should be finding torn and burned flesh. Smooth, soft, and wonderfully warm..._

Her fingers tingled briefly with the memory of the smooth skin of O'Neill's back. She shook her head, still unable to believe the Nox had brought them all back from the dead. If they could do that, surely they could work their magic again on one little boy. She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer, hoping it would help whatever force the Nox were using to heal the child.

O'Neill watched his Second's eyes close, already sorry for snapping at her. Damn it, but sometimes she was soft. Too soft. He shivered slightly at the ghostly recollection of Carter's fingers brushing across his back as she and Daniel woke him earlier. Firmly he pushed that memory aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Look, Captain–"

"No, Sir. Sorry...you're right. I _don't_ know." Carter frowned at the ground, then looked up to catch her CO's eyes. "But I _do_ know that what happened to Nafrayu wasn't our fault..." She took a breath, then plunged in. "It wasn't _your _fault. Sir. It was Apophis, and we'll get him."

Daring, she laid a hand on O'Neill's arm. "When you're ready, we're over there." Carter walked away, leaving O'Neill to continue wrapping his arrow.

Jack bent his head to check his work, his hands deftly twisting and braiding the string into position. How could he think his young Captain was soft? One minute the woman flinched when he snapped at her, the next she'd let him know–with a few quiet words–that she was ready to take on the meanest bastard he had ever encountered.

With a last glance at the Nox, his gaze lingering on Nafrayu, O'Neill turned to rejoin his team. If the Nox wouldn't protect themselves, then he would step in. Carter's blonde head caught his eye, the bright flash such a contrast to the rest of his team–different in so many ways. He caught her eye and sent her a ghost of a wink. Game on, Captain.


	7. Perchance to Dream

A/N: I've edited this to reflect the correct some inadvertant errors. I wrote this originally thinking that Carter didn't know of Charlie O'Neill – basing her knowledge on the order of episodes listed in the DVD sets. However, I've discovered that the DVD sets are out of order, so I had to change the ending of this story.

Set during _Brief Candle_

--

_**Perchance to Dream**_

--

_What the hell is going on here?_

Daniel's words echoed in Carter's head as she sat, her back to the low wall that edged the village well, watching Colonel O'Neill sleep. Together she and Teal'c had built a bed of blankets and cushions purloined from the sleeping Argosians in the tent, certain their occupants wouldn't miss them. They'd built a small fire outside and Teal'c had carried the Colonel to the makeshift bed before moving to the edge of the firelight to Kel'no'reem until his watch. Daniel, too, had moved away, finding a spot in which to curl up and catch a few hours of sleep, leaving Carter to take the first shift.

She shifted again, sliding her feet out before her and adjusting the small pillow behind her back. From here she could see inside of the tent and knew she'd be able to see any threat that came from that venue, although she knew that someone would first have to get past the formidable deterrent of Teal'c.

Her eyes drifted down to O'Neill once again. She'd watched him sleep before, once or twice, while off-world. He always looked younger to her when he slept, his features softened by the light of the glowing embers. Although drug-induced, this time was no different from any other; even in sleep the man was never completely still. Carter watched as his fingers twitched occasionally, as his expressive eyebrows shifted in time with his eyes in response to whatever it was that was chasing his dreams.

A soft hiccup and sigh caught her attention, and Carter glanced through the tent flap to see the baby that Daniel delivered earlier in the day, his new namesake, shift and settle once again. It seemed unusual to her that a newborn would sleep so soundly through the night, but–

"Ungh..."

Carter whipped her head around, startled to find O'Neill trying to sit up. He'd been so heavily drugged that she'd expected him to sleep until dawn. She quickly reached over, supporting him as he slid upright, propping himself up alongside of her.

"Sir?" She kept her voice low so as not to wake the others.

O'Neill was clearly still out of it, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, obviously trying to force himself awake.

"St...status?"

"Um, Teal'c's over there, in Kel'no'reem, Daniel's over there, sound asleep. I'm on first watch."

"Dan'l?"

Catching on to his worry right away, Carter laid a hand on his arm, reassuring her CO.

"No, Sir. He's just...asleep. We didn't eat anything."

"Kay." O'Neill gave a soft cough and blinked again, blearily focusing on Carter's face. "You?"

"Me, Sir?"

Frustrated, O'Neill shook his head and tried again. He vaguely gestured to himself, his undressed state, and his new bed. "You?"

"Oh! No, Sir. I...well, Teal'c carried you over here and we put you to bed. Do you remember anything?" At his head shake, Carter continued. "You ate some sort of cake, then you...well, you and a woman named Kynthia, ah..." Carter stopped and ducked her head, not meeting O'Neill's now slightly clearer gaze.

"Ah."

The two were silent for a few minutes, the small fire popping and crackling and providing an accompaniment to the soft night sounds of the village. Occasionally a villager would shift and sigh, breaking the silence. Carter sighed, breathing in the smell of the fire and the slightly musky scent of her still mostly-unclothed commanding officer. She liked his scent, she decided; a slightly spicy hint to it that tickled her senses. He smelled uniquely..._Sir _to her.

Carter sighed again as she realized where her thoughts were going. _He smells _Sir_ to you? What the hell is that, Sam?_

Beside her, O'Neill was nodding off again. He grunted as his head fell forward and he began to talk to keep himself awake.

"How 'bout our Daniel today, eh? A baby..."

Leaning her head back against the wall, Carter puffed out a breath and gazed up at the stars. "Yeah, that was something, all right." She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how calm their archaeologist had been, how...confident. After his first bout of nerves, Daniel had simply snapped to it, giving her orders, calming the young mother, and bringing that beautiful boy into the world.

She felt O'Neill shift next to her and was a bit startled to feel his head slide down and rest upon her shoulder.

"Sir?"

"Sorry. Tired." O'Neill shifted again. "Cute kid, huh?"

Carter smiled into the darkness. "Yes, Sir. He is beautiful."

She paused, wondering if she was crossing a line she shouldn't. Since her encounter with the Lazarus crystal and learning of the death of the Colonel's son, she'd wanted to say express her sympathy. It broke her heart, the thought of her commanding officer losing his son–and with his own service weapon. She'd barely spent any time with the crystaline duplicate of the child, but it had been enough to know that Charlie O'Neill had been a beautiful little boy who had inherited his father's amber eyes.

Carter rubbed her chest, surprised by the intensity of the ache she felt when thinking of O'Neill's loss. She'd never met the real Charlie and had barely met his mother. She couldn't even rightly call the Colonel a friend, but she found herself wishing she could have been there for him. Line or not, she wanted to let him know how sorry she was.

"Sir? I...I wanted to tell you..." Carter trailed off, and when he didn't respond she carefully craned her neck to see if he was awake. She felt his breathing even out, saw his eyes flutter closed once again. Carefully she shifted her position, trying to get the Colonel's head into a position that wouldn't result in him having his neck ache in the morning. She'd get Teal'c to move him...later. For now, he could just relax and dream. She couldn't change the past, but she could be there for him now, in whatever way he'd let her.


	8. Within Reach

A/N: This is yet another backfiller for Season One. I think when I originally conceived this series I was determined to only write stories for eps that actually campfires in them, or the suggestion of same. However, there was just simply too much good stuff in other eps to pass up. This was one of them.

Right now this is listed as the latest of the Campfires for Season 1. Due to FF dot net's funny updating, it'll sit here at the end of the line for two weeks, then I'll shuffle it to where it belongs in the seasons. FF dot net really messes with you if you originally posted stuff out of order. ::sigh:: As always, reviews are answered and saved.

Oh, and a note to the faithful "dp" who always reviews and to whom I am never able to respond because I have no email addy for you. Thanks so much for your faithful and kind reviews.

Set after _The Torment of Tantalus_ on a planet of my own making.

-----------

_**Within Reach**_

-----------

Colonel O'Neill watched as Daniel quietly closed his journal and, with barely a nod to the rest of the team, disappeared into the tent he shared with Teal'c. He'd been like that all day, for the past several days, really. Jack shook his head. Damned scientists.

"He still mad at you?" Carter's voice was soft as she returned to her seat at his side. She handed him a steaming mug and then carefully picked up her own. With a long, deep sigh she sipped appreciatively, apparently savoring her nightly cup of hot chocolate.

"Yeah. A bit." Jack sipped from his own mug, nodding his thanks to Carter for the warm drink. "The more he gets into Ernest's notes the madder he gets."

"Daniel Jackson is a man of deep feelings, O'Neill."

"I know, Teal'c. But..." Jack shrugged and gestured vaguely with his mug. "You'd think the guy would be grateful to be alive, wouldn't you?"

Teal'c's only response was a nod of agreement. He said no more as he rose and, with one last nod to them both, disappeared beyond the edges of the firelight to begin his nightly kel-no-reem ritual. Jack watched him go, slightly in awe of the big man's equanimity. Nothing seemed to shake the Jaffa.

"I, for one, am glad you forced him back, Colonel." Carter glanced back at the tent into which Daniel had disappeared. "He'll come around. Eventually."

"I'm not worried."

"How do you think he's doing?" Carter's voice was pensive, her attention on the fire.

"Who, Daniel?"

"No. Doctor Littlefield. Ernest. I wonder how he's settling in."

"Oh, Catherine'll take good care of him."

"I'm sure."

Jack shifted on their makeshift seat, reaching behind him to unbunch the canvas he'd set down for both of them to sit upon. Glancing over at Carter, he fidgeted for a moment with his mug before asking the question that had been bugging him for days. "Carter? I didn't know you knew Catherine. I mean...before."

"Hmm?"

"You know." Jack shrugged. "The day that Daniel brought her back to the SGC...and God, didn't Hammond just _love_ that? Anyway, you seemed really happy to see her. I didn't know you two knew each other."

"Oh. Hmm." Carter turned toward him, taking another sip from her mug before setting it aside. The night air was growing colder, and with the cold air came the dampness that seemed to be on every planet. She closed her jacket, tugging the zipper up to settle right below her chin before picking up her mug once again. When she spoke Jack could hear just a hint of...something...in her voice. "I...ah. Well, it's really no secret. She came to Oxford, attended a lecture I was giving, actually, and afterward...well, she was really the reason I was pulled into the project at the Pentagon."

Jack turned to her, his coffee forgotten halfway en route to his lips. "Uh...Oxford?"

Carter shrugged, clearly surprised by his reaction. "Yes, Sir. I got my Master's and Doctorate there."

"Huh." O'Neill was silent for a moment, lost in thought. He supposed he'd never really though of her getting her post graduate degrees at any particular place. He hadn't really thought about it much at all, now that he...well...thought about it. "I guess I always assumed you...well, I guess I never really thought about the school side of things."

"Oh." Carter shrugged again. "It's no big deal, Sir. I was actually too young to attend the Academy when I finished high school, so I did some prelim coursework while I waited to turn seventeen. Then later, after the Academy I..." Sam trailed off, looking at him. "You don't really want to know this, do you?"

"No. I mean, yes. Yes I do." Jack set his mug down and stretched his legs out toward the fire. He leaned back until his head was pillowed against his gearbag and he could see the stars. "C'mon Carter, tell me where you trained your brain." He felt more than saw her gentle laughter as she stretched out beside him to watch the stars move across the sky.

"Not much to tell, really. I went to the Academy–"

"Knew that."

"Okay, so, when I finished I had the option to do as most of my classmates did and take a duty assignment or to continue my research. I chose to extend my committment to the Air Force by continuing my research. I pretty much knew I was a lifer anyway, you know?"

"Mmh hm." Jack murmured encouragingly as he zipped his own jacket. The movement brought him into contact with Carter's arm. Well, until she moved it, that is. Even lying on her back she gestured to make her point.

"Major Kennedy was really excited about some of my theories–"

"I'll bet," muttered Jack, his darkening expression invisible to Carter in the darkness of the night that enveloped them.

"And he...excuse me?" Sam turned her head and pinned him with a sharp blue-eyed stare.

There was just enough light from the fire for him to see the spark of anger in her eyes. "Um, sorry, did I say that out loud?"

"Yes. Sir." Carter's voice had a bite to it and her eyes narrowed just a trifle.

"Oh." Jack shifted again, then blew out a breath. "I know Mike Kennedy. He's...well, no disrespect to your math professor, but he's..."

"An ass. Yes, Sir. I know."

"Oh."

"And a womanizer of the first degree." Carter's last comment was almost too soft for him to hear.

_Almost._

Jack jerked upward, all of his weight on his elbow and he leaned over her. "Carter," he growled. "Did _Major_ Kennedy ever..."

His Second was quiet for a long moment, longer than he was comfortable with. She also, he noted, didn't quite meet his eyes as she answered softly, "Not...no. No, nothing I couldn't handle."

"Captain, I know you can handle just about anything, but that wasn't, if you recall, my question. I asked you if Major Kennedy ever stepped over the line." Jack enunciated each word carefully, then held his breath as he waited for her answer. He knew that if she entered the Academy in 1985 or so, which is about when he figured she had, she was there at what many considered the height of the sexual harassment and sexual assault period. Or the height as it was reported, anyway. O'Neill shook his head. Damned idiots who thought with their dicks. As he felt his anger rise, Jack realized that Carter _still_ had not answered his question. He locked his eyes on hers and deliberately softened his expression, asking as gently as he could manage, "Captain?"

She held his gaze for another moment before finally looking away. Her response, or lack thereof, told him everything he needed to know. Jack's anger quickly boiled over into something more elemental, something more fierce. The urge to..._destroy_...something, or some_one_, overwhelmed him, startling him with its intensity. When she returned her gaze to his, Jack wrestled his emotions back under control. She didn't need his anger, she needed his friendship. His support. Very slowly he reached out and rested a hand on her arm. "Carter? You don't need to–"

Carter shook her head and lifted herself onto one elbow, careful, he noticed, not to dislodge his hand on her arm. She seemed to unconsciously mimic his pose. She ducked her head and bit her lip, then looked up at him. The dancing flames of the forgotten campfire cast vivid shadows across her features, making her always startling blue eyes nearly clear in the moving light. "No, Sir. It's fine. It's not really what you think."

"What do I think?"

"You probably think he...I mean, well, he did _try_. One night, in the lab. Late. I...it was my fault, really–"

Jack squeezed the arm still reseting under his fingers. "No."

Carter looked up at him, startled. "I thought you wanted to hear..."

"I do. What I meant was, 'no,' it _wasn't_ your fault." Jack squeezed again, making sure he had her complete attention. "I mean it, Sam. No. Whatever happened, and I do want you to tell me what you're comfortable telling me, but you cannot ever tell me that anything like that is ever the fault of the vic–" Jack cut himself off at the look in her eyes. No, Carter was never a _victim_. "It wasn't your fault."

Carter simply lay there, propped up on one elbow, her arm gripped by O'Neill. She met his gaze, absorbing his words, her expression so open and vulnerable that it made Jack's heart ache. He was about to say more when she haltingly continued her story.

"I...um...anyway. I was there late, and I knew that there had been other...incidents. My roommate dropped out just before our Firstie year because.... Anyway. Like I said, I was there late and he, the Major, stopped by to say goodnight. We'd always been friendly, probably moreso than was appropriate. I never really thought..." Carter stuttered to a halt, then met his eyes once more. "It never got further than him trying to kiss me. I was so stunned, I just...just...I don't know. I blanked I guess. Then he tried to touch me and...well, let's just say that Major Parker's hand-to-hand training kicked in. Hard."

"Ooh."

"Yeah." Carter's face had changed, now an almost feral smile settled on her lips. "That was it."

"Ah." Jack released her arm and sat up and rubbed his eyes, then ran a finger through his hair unaware that his actions had captured his Captain's attention and that her gaze lingered on his now rumpled hair while he stared into the fire. He absently tossed another log onto the flames and then poked the pile to get the blaze going a little higher. He reached for his coffee and took a sip, making a face at its temperature. They'd been chatting long enough that the drink had grown cold and there was nothing worse than cold coffee.

Beside him Carter remained propped on her elbows, her head now tipped back and her eyes closed, exposing her throat to him. O'Neill glanced over his shoulder at her, mesmerized for a moment by the fire-kissed length of her neck, at the almost symbolic vulnerability she was showing him. It was a sign, he knew, of how much she trusted him. He wondered if the growing feelings he had for his young Second made him just like Kennedy. He didn't think so, God he hoped not. He had never in his life forced a woman to do anything, just the thought made him ill. How long he sat, looking at her over his shoulder, he didn't know. After a while she spoke, her quiet voice pitched low to match the night, her face still pointed toward the sky.

"Want to hear the rest?"

Rest? There was more? For an instant Jack panicked. God, if she'd been one of those raped during that era, he didn't think he'd be able to...no, no, wait. We were talking about...school. Oxford. Jesus, Jack, get it together. To cover his lapse, Jack cleared his throat. "You betcha, Carter."

Carter tilted her head back so she could see O'Neill again. "Like I said, my theories got me an interview. I really wanted MIT, but they don't have an astrophysics program, just math. I was approached by the team at Oxford and they invited me to join them. I did."

"Did you like it?"

"Oh yes. Loved England. Loved it. Could have stayed forever, I thought...well, yes. Loved it."

"Surprised you ever left your lab."

"Oh, I managed." This time Carter's expression was soft, her thoughts obviously far away.

Jack wasn't sure he liked seeing that expression on her face. He was sure that he didn't like the unexpected surge of jealousy that shot through him at the thought of what, or whom, could be responsible for that expression. He spoke up, his voice a bit tense. "So...that's when you met Catherine?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. As I said, she came to a lecture I was giving as a part of my dissertation. She introduced herself, asked me a few questions, then...I don't know, really. Just sort of swept me up into her circle of people."

"She's good at that."

"Yes."

They'd come full circle in their conversation, back to how Carter knew Catherine. Jack wasn't sure why, but he felt a bit...left out...at the thought that Catherine had known Carter before he had. He leaned back again, matching Carter's relaxed pose, and crossed his legs at the ankle. It was late, well past time for them to turn in, but Jack was reluctant to end their evening. He shifted again, then nudged her knee with his own. "That was nice...what you said to her...about the heart never growing old."

"I didn't know you heard that." Carter sounded embarrassed.

"I did." Jack didn't mention the other conversation he'd overheard between Catherine and Ernest.

- -

_Ernest was explaining the myth of Tantalus as Jack rounded the corner. The two were talking, really talking, for the first time, and Jack was loathe to interrupt them. When Ernest finished, Catherine shook her head. "Everlasting, unending temptation."_

"_He was reaching for something that was…um…out of reach." His gaze on her was intense, as if he were trying to tell her something._

_Jack saw the elderly woman raise her head to meet the old man's gaze. "That sounds familiar. Some might say that's what makes a man great. If we all accepted what was within our grasp—"_

_Ernest interrupted her anxiously. "Sometimes what we have is of more value. It takes a great man to recognize that. I didn't. I was a fool." _

_Carter had pulled him away then, needing help with the heavy cable she was securing around the gate, and Jack hadn't heard any more._

- -

Jack thought of Ernest's words as they sat together in the gathering darkness, pondering the meaning behind the old man's confession to his long-lost love. He thought to himself, _What kind of love survives forty years of limbo?_

Beside him Carter stifled a yawn. He watched as she stretched and rose, gathered up her things and dusted off her trousers. She nodded to him, murmuring her good-night's and headed off toward the tent they shared. As Jack watched her go he considered Catherine's summation of Tantalus' story. _Everlasting, unending temptation. _

_Indeed._

_- -_

End.

- -

Afterword: When I was seventeen I turned down an unconditional appointment to the USAF Academy. My grandmother didn't speak to me for a month afterward, but I felt in my heart I was doing the right thing. Years later the stories began to come out about the assaults and rapes that were (and probably still are) so prevalent at the Academy during that time. I would have been a member of the Class of '90, placing me–at my most emotionally vulnerable–at the Academy during that era. Sam Carter (and Amanda) is a year older than I; therefore, she would have been the Class of '89.

New Aftwerwod: I'm two sentences into a review and realized I forgot to say this (forgive me, I posted the story late last night). I have nothing but the utmost respect for the men and women of the armed forces. I served (just didn't do the Academy), had my share of harrassment, but that was balanced by some of the most incredible experiences of my life. Please don't take this story as a slam in any way against any military branch or Academy (I'm the granddaughter, great grandaughter, and great, great granddaughter of West Point grads). Trust me...I think they're amazing places. But they, like any other organization, have some issues. Thanks.


	9. Essence of Spirit

A/N: I know I said that these stories would center around campfires off-world, but this episode was the first time we get a real Sam/Jack hug, and Jack comforting Sam as they realize they've been duped into believing Daniel is dead. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell a story and to move their relationship forward

Set during _Fire and Water_

--

_**Essence of Spirit**_

--

General Hammond was the last to leave the wake. He'd been pretty good about his car, considering. Siler had quietly and efficiently cleaned up the broken glass, then taped the edges of the window to protect the General until the window could be repaired. The party had gone on for a few hours more, some guests leaving and others arriving late.

Carter watched the SGC's commander leave, smiling faintly as Teal'c folded himself into the General's small sedan. She appreciated General Hammond offering to drive her teammate back to the base. She had wanted...needed...to stay a bit longer, and she didn't want to look too closely at her reasons. As the silver car's tail lights disappeared down the road, she closed the front door and stepped softly through the house. She eased open the back door, not wanting to disturb the Colonel, but needing to be near him. She took a moment to simply watch him. He taught her so much, this enigmatic commanding officer under whose command she'd been assigned. She knew he would never understand just how much she learned by simply watching him deal with whatever was thrown in their path.

Right now, however, her CO wasn't dealing well at all. He sat straddling the picnic bench, silhouetted against the fading light of the day, every line in his posture screaming defeat and exhaustion. One hand propped up his head, his arm resting heavily on the tabletop. In the other hand he held a long poker, with which he halfheartedly prodded the logs in the small stone fire pit. Harriman, Sam thought, or Davis, maybe, had wanted a fire; so, despite his discomfort and the flash of memories it evoked, O'Neill had built one.

With a final soft curse, the Colonel buried the tip of the poker in the embers and rubbed his hand through his hair. A faint sob carried across the lawn to Sam, and it was that sound broke her from her immobility. She carefully picked her way across the lawn to join him. Her feet damp from the settling evening dew, she slipped onto the bench next to him, her shoulder barely brushing his.

O'Neill sat silently for a few moments, head bent, his forearms resting on his thighs, hands dangling and still. He didn't acknowledge her presence, but he was grateful for it. He cleared his throat, wanting to say something...anything. If anyone had to stay, he was glad it was Carter. It had been his idea to host this wake, and it had seemed a good idea at first. As the party wore on, however, he'd had to force himself to be sociable, to be the host. Finally he'd exchanged a single glance with his Second and escaped to his rooftop observatory. From there he'd watched as Carter had simply and naturally taken over as hostess in his absence. She'd gone from person to person making sure they had what they required, listening when they wanted to share a Daniel anecdote, and giving a hug when someone seemed to need it. It was nice to have someone he could hand things over to, but now he felt a bit guilty about it.

"Thank you, Captain...thank you, _Sam_. For today, for stepping in. I just couldn't do–"

"You don't have to thank me, Sir. I'm glad I could–" Sam swallowed hard, realizing what she'd said. "I mean, it's okay, Sir. That's what we do. We're a team–" Again she was at a loss. Everything she said reminded her that Daniel wasn't there, reminded her of why they were here tonight. "You know, I keep expecting..."

"Yeah, me too."

"You okay?"

"No...not really."

"Me neither." Sam stopped, her breath catching. "You really scared me back there, you know." Seeing O'Neill's confused look, she continued. "Hockey stick? The General's car?"

"Oh. That. Sorry." O'Neill rocked his head back and forth, loosening the kinks. He leaned back and rested his elbows on the picnic table top, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. Darkness had swallowed them completely now, and beside him he could see Sam's face, her features softly kissed by the dying embers of the small fire Walter had insisted upon. He took a deep breath, taking in the damp smells of evening mixed with the soft fragrance that was Sam Carter. It was a sweet aroma to him, a dangerous one. She smelled different when they were off-world. Not better, not worse, but different. Off-world Sam Carter's scent was a sometimes heady combination of cotton, strawberry shampoo, and sweat overlaid with a just hint of dirt and the tang of gun oil. Good smells..._Sam_ smells. A scent that always meant that she was nearby, and safe.

_Safe_.

Oh, God.

Carter heard O'Neill's breath catch again and she turned to face him. She knew his own pain was mirrored on her face and was grateful for the darkness that allowed them to..._feel_...without masks. She knew her emotions were out of control tonight, and worse, her feelings for her commanding officer were edging close to a line she couldn't ever cross. Despite that knowledge, she heard herself asking before she was aware she'd even formed the thought.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Would it...can I..." With a gulp she turned her face away and tried again, her words tumbling out almost too fast to be understood. "CanIhaveahug?"

It took Jack a second or two to sort through her request, to understand her rapid-fire question. When he did he simply reached for her, gathering her in his arms. He pulled her close, tucking her head against his shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around her body. One hand slid to her waist while the other rose to caress her hair, pulling her even closer. He closed his eyes and buried his face into her neck, letting himself enjoy, for just a moment, the silken brush of her hair against his cheek. This close to her he was overwhelmed with the perfume that was on-Earth Sam Carter. As rich and textured as woman herself, Sam's essence was everything it was off-world and so very much more.

In that moment Jack knew that it was that richness of spirit which would get both of them through the next few days. He needed her every bit as much as she needed him and for a few minutes, in a quiet darkness of his back yard, they comforted each other.


	10. Plurality

A/N: This is another not-off-world Campfire story. In my research for these vignettes I am "forced" to re-watch episodes. I was struck repeatedly by how close O'Neill and Carter are during this story, or at least how much their faces and words reveal as the story unfolds. Because of that, we have another Earthside campfire in which to explore their burgeoning relationship.

Set after _Singularity_

-----------

_**Plurality**_

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"Jack! Is this one okay?" Cassandra carefully handed her newly sharpened stick to O'Neill and watched as he examined it closely.

For his part, O'Neill made a show of looking over the twig-turned-utensil, going so far as to sight along the length of it. Finally he nodded solemnly and handed it, blunt end first, back to the eager little girl.

"Yup, I think that one's a keeper."

"Sweet!" Cassandra grinned at him before plopping down next to him, her hand already reaching for the bag of marshmallows.

On O'Neill's other side, Carter smiled. She raised an eyebrow at her CO and said softly, "Sweet?"

O'Neill grinned back at his Second, glad to see her so relaxed and happy. He shrugged at her question, secretly delighted that Cassandra was picking up his English idioms. "What can I say? She picks good role models."

Carter was grateful that the darkening evening hid her blush. She smiled as Daniel's snort from across the fire was followed by a fit of coughing.

"Okay over there, Dr. Jackson?" Janet Frasier looked up from her own sugary creation to check on the archaeologist. She rose from her crouch near Teal'c, circling the brightly snapping fire to pat Daniel on the back. Daniel nodded his thanks and wiped his eyes, throwing Jack a dirty look.

"Uh, yeah, Doctor, I am."

"People, for cryin' out loud, we're in my back yard making s'mores. Can we drop the 'doctor's' and "Colonel's'?"

Carter looked over at her CO, not sure if he was including her in that directive as well. Probably not, she decided. Just as well. She caught his eye and quirked a small smile at him.

"Yes, Sir. I'll just do that."

"Funny, _Captain_. Funny." He pulled a giggling Cassandra into his lap and buried his face in her belly, trying to blow a rasberry through her sweater. The young girl let out a shriek of laughter, making the adults around her smile. It was good to see the child happy. He'd suggested a bar-b-que at his place after their outing in the park and was glad he'd made the effort. A quick call to Janet had assured her presence, along with all of the required ingredients for a traditional campfire desert. If Cassie was going to live here, O'Neill was determined to teach her all of life's really important lessons.

"Grab a marshmallow, Cassie, and I'll show you how to make the world famouse 'O'Neill special' s'more." Jack winced slightly as the girl hit a particularly sensitive spot as she wiggled in his lap. He shot a quick glare at Carter, who'd seen his reaction and quickly ducked her face to hid a grin.

Cassandra turned and faced Jack fully, her face suddenly serious. "Um, Jack? Do you mind if Daniel shows me his way first? He said he learned it from real S'morians."

Carter smothered a giggle at the puzzled look on O'Neill's face.

"'S'morians'?"

Still serious, Cassandra leaned close to Jack's face. "It's okay, isn't it, Jack?"

No more than anyone else, O'Neill couldn't resist that freckled face. He swept Cassie up in a hug, pulling her close and cuddling her under his chin.

"Sweetheart, of _course_ it's okay." Jack pulled back and rubbed his nose against hers. "After all, it's only fair that you have a _bad_ s'more before you have the very best."

Cassie quickly leaned in and planted a wet kiss on O'Neill's cheek, then slid off to run around the fire to Daniel.

Carter watched the raw emotions play across O'Neill's face as Daniel wrapped an arm around the girl and began to weave a fantastical tale while building their sweet treat. As much as she'd wished the Colonel been at the SGC during Cassandra's surgery and subsequent revival, she was suddenly glad he hadn't been there. It was selfish of her to have wanted him there. Selfish, but...oh how there were times when she'd wished it had been him and not Daniel offering to share in the care of Cassandra. _God, Sam. Can you be any more girly? You not only have a crush on your CO, but you wanted to play 'house' with him too, complete with a little girl._ Carter shook her head, trying to stop her runaway thoughts.

"Chocolate?"

Sam took the chocolate from O'Neill's hand, her fingers lightly brushing his, and set it carefully on her graham cracker. She kept her focus there, trying to reorder her thoughts and get her mind back to where it needed to be. Or at least away from where it couldn't be.

O'Neill watched Carter place her square of chocolate on her cracker with the precision of a...well...a scientist. She fished a marshmallow out of the bag between them and carefully speared it with her own stick. He studied her face as she deliberately chose the best place in which to hold her treat over the fire for maximum toasting. She approached s'more making with the same intensity that she did everything else.

Jack closed his eyes, still seeing her face as she held the unconscious Cassandra in her arms, the elevator doors slowly closing between them, cutting him off. The pain in her face as she fought back tears had struck him straight through the heart. He'd had to clench his fists to stop himself from blocking the doors from closing, forcing himself to keep his face calm for her. Then later, he'd thought his heart would stop when Daniel told him the elevator was returning to the bottom floor. The digital display of his watch seemd to mimic every beat of his heart he'd watched the timer count down, unable to stop himself from jumping a little as it hit zero and the alarm sounded. Then came the silence.

"_Captain Carter...can you hear me?" Ignoring the two men behind him, O'Neill moved closer to the speaker. Please, answer. Finger shaking, he pressed the comm button again. "_Sam_...can you hear me?"_

_Carter's microphone-distorted voice came over the speakers, bringing with it a relief so great he was almost afraid. He could hear her voice shaking, twenty-eight floors below._

"_We're okay, nothing happened. Cassandra's fine, I'm fine..._

_The rest of her words were lost briefly in the swirling noise in his head. Jack closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the speaker, trying to control the sudden weakness in his knees. In that moment, struggling to control the equally overwhelming waves of fear and joy swamping through him, something changed for Jack. He recognized it and carefully put it away to deal with later. Right now he need to get her...get _them_ up to the surface._

O'Neill glanced around the fire, making sure everyone else was absorbed in Daniel's tale. He moved slightly closer to Carter, so close that their crossed legs were touching. Jack waited for her to look at him. When she did, he spoke, careful to keep his voice low, not wanting to share this conversation with the others.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

Carter turned toward him, puzzled by his apology. She matched his tone and questioned him quietly.

"Sir?"

"For letting you go down there. I'm your CO, I should have been the one to take Cassie down."

"But, Sir, I–"

"Carter, I _know_ how hard that was for you. Daniel told me...everything. The surgery, you...in the elevator. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be there for yo–" O'Neill swallowed hard, knowing he was going too far and saying more than he should. "Damn, it, Carter, I'm your commanding officer. The hard stuff should fall to me." Once again O'Neill's gaze turned toward the fire, his face in profile to Carter.

She couldn't believe the Colonel was apologizing to her. She felt that she should be the one apologizing. Once again she'd defied orders, choosing to go back down to the twenty-eighth floor despite his demands that she return. The old 'the end justifies the means' excuse would only go so far and she was relieved that he'd apparently let her get away with insubordination once again. And as for him being the one to leave that little girl behind in a missile silo? No force on Earth–or off of it for that matter–could make her put that pain on his shoulders when she could take it. One lost child was enough for a lifetime.

Carter checked on Cassie, who was happily sandwiched between Teal'c and Daniel with Janet looking on. Shrouded in semi-darkness on the fare side of the fire, she felt safe having a fairly private discussion with O'Neill.

"Sir, I'm the one who's sorry. Not for how it came out, of course, but for disobeying your orders. Again."

"Yes...you do seem to be making a habit of it, Captain." The small smile he sent her took the sting out of his words.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry."

O'Neill faced her, watching as she turned toward him. He held her gaze for a minute, willing her to understand how important this was to him. "As I said, Carter..." His voice softened and he lowered it further, almost whispering now. "...Sam. I _am_ sorry."

"It's...thank you, Sir. But it's okay, really." She kept her eyes on his, gesturing toward Cassie with a tilt of her chin. "She's okay." The firelight lit O'Neill's amber eyes, emphasizing the ever-present warmth she always found there. Sam smiled shyly and ducked her head, before glancing up again. "_We're _okay. Sir."

And they were.


	11. Above and Beyond

A/N: Hmm. This is and is not an offworld story. It is centered around _Solitudes_, so you know that for Carter and O'Neill, it _is_ an offworld story; therefore...however, you have to sort of imagine the campfire here.

Set during _Solitudes _with references to _Enigma_

--

_**Above and Beyond**_

--

Carter clenched her teeth to stop their chattering, trying to get her numb fingers to work as she lit the small Sterno. As campfires went, this one quite frankly sucked. She squinted in the dim light, trying to see if the flame had caught, before giving up and poking her finger at the base of the metal frame. With a hiss and a curse, she yelped and jammed her now burned finger into her mouth.

"Dammit!"

A muffled cough came from the bundle of cloth and emergency blankets next to her. O'Neill's voice was weak, and he coughed again, trying to see if Carter was okay.

"It's okay, Colonel. I just burned my finger."

"Try...using...the...heat to...warm...us...up...Captain."

Carter could barely keep her tears in check, she knew that with every minute wasted O'Neill was closer to death. She cleared her throat and tried to keep any sign of weakness from her voice.

"I'm doing my best, Sir. Really. I am."

"I know...ya are, Carter. I know."

With the small tin full of snow beginning to melt, Sam shifted over, closer to O'Neill. She checked to be sure as much of him as possible was on either a blanket or a pack–anything to keep him off of the ice below. Her fingers fumbled with the blankets surrounding her CO's face as she brushed the newly formed ice crystals away from his eyes and nose. His beautiful eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were glazed with pain and exhaustion. She ached to see the pain in his face, to see the dark stains along the edge of his scarf. Stains that told her he was still bleeding internally.

Carter watched as his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing slowed once again. Daring, almost beyond caring anymore, she slipped a hand inside of his hood, gently running the backs of her fingers down his stubbly cheek. At her touch, O'Neill's eyes slid open again, his gaze catching and holding hers.

The look in O'Neill's eyes reminded her of the last image she had of Narim as he turned, Schrödinger tucked safely in his arms, and stepped through the Stargate.

_Carter still wasn't sure how she felt about the alien who'd made his interest in her so clear. She watched as he stepped onto the ramp, then turned back to look at her once more. Suddenly she felt a warm hand come to rest on her shoulder and give her a gentle squeeze. Glancing up, she was surprised to see her commanding officer standing there, his eyes on the man in the 'gateroom. O'Neill didn't say a word, but the message he was sending Narim had came through, loud and clear. Carter returned her attention to Narim in time to see his faint nod of understanding. His eyes flickered from her to O'Neill and back again, then a look of pained resolution crossed his features before he nodded once, turned and headed up the ramp and through the shimmering event horizon._

Remembering that moment, Carter dropped her mittened hand to O'Neill's shoulder, giving it as much of a squeeze as she could through the layers of blanket and clothing. For a long moment neither spoke, then O'Neill turned his face slightly toward the warmth of her hand and dropped off to sleep once again. Carter ducked her head and closed her eyes, slipping her hand out and back into the safety of her oversized mitten.

How the hell was she going to get them out of this one? She glanced back at the sleeping Colonel, then reached out and turned off the small camp stove. She wanted to save as much fuel as possible to keep O'Neill supplied with as much warm water as possible. _Although, I don't know how much good warm water will be._ Carter choked back a sob. She knew the memory of the blood-spattered ice between them would be the stuff of nightmares for the rest of her life, however short that life might be.

- - -

Carter fumbled with her mic, fighting to keep the despair out of her voice. Her eyes swept the stark white landscape, searching desperately for some sign of life. "It's an ice planet. That's all there is as far as the eye can see. No chance." She cocked her head, waiting for a response that never came. "Colonel! I'm coming down!" With a resigned sigh, Carter dropped back into the hole from which she'd recently emerged. Her exhaustion got the better of her and she lost her footing, bouncing and banging her way back down the route she'd just climbed, landing face first a few feet from her unconscious Colonel.

Barely holding back her tears, Carter dragged herself up from where she'd fallen in her haphazard slide down the crevasse. She picked her way closer to the Colonel, staying away from his broken leg, and gently laid herself down alongside him. Her position reminded her of just a few hours earlier when he'd awakened and asked her to move.

"_Captain. Much as I might otherwise think this is nice..." O'Neill's voice was barely loud enough to be heard._

_Carter buried her face deeper into his neck, her arm tightening around his chest, her voice hoarse from exhaustion._

"_Shh, try to sleep."_

"_Is that what we were doing?"_

"_You were exhausted, you passed out. I just thought we had to combine body heat or we wouldn't make it through the night."_

"_That's fine...it's just really hard to sleep with broken ribs when someone's lying on you."_

_Oh God, how could she have forgotten? Carter eased herself off of him as gently as she could, apologizing for hurting him. They settled in again, exhaustion getting the better of them both. Just as she felt herself slipping into sleep, Carter felt something..._

"_Um...Colonel?_

_Softly, with a hint of his regular humor coloring his voice, O'Neill assured her, "It's...my sidearm...I swear."_

_Carter couldn't help herself. Even now, his broken leg awkwardly set and fluid filling his lungs, this man...this amazing man...could make her smile. Giggle even. She buried her head in his shoulder and prayed someone would fine them soon._

The pervasive cold brought her out of her memories and she snuggled closer to the Colonel, desperately trying to share some of the little body heat she had with him. _It would really be better if we were both under the same blanket, but that would involve...naked...and we're not going there, Samantha._ Despite the cold making everything else sluggish, Sam's senses seemed to be on high alert. Every sound O'Neill made, every small movement seemed to flash through her and send her thoughts careening wildly. Her entire body was numb, but her sense of smell was functioning at an almost painfully high level. With her face buried as it was in his shoulder, she could almost taste his scent on her tongue.

To keep her mind focused, she ran through every scenario she could think of, wondering what she'd missed, why the Gate wouldn't work. It was no use, every option she thought of led her back to where she was now, here...with him...dying. Sam was afraid. Afraid of dying, afraid of losing O'Neill, afraid of...being alone. Oh God, she didn't know what she'd do of he died. When he died. The thought of spending the rest of her life in this crevasse with only the body–the empty shell–of the man she...no. Carter new he'd already faced that possibility.

"_I guess it didn't work."_

_This time she gave in and let her tears flow as she apologized. She'd failed them, failed him._

"_Not your fault."_

"_I don't understand why it won't work!"_

"_Captain. Plan B...go."_

"_No, Sir..." She wouldn't leave him. Couldn't. He meant too much to everyone, to her._

"_Sam, I'm dying. Follow my order...pl...please."_

"_Sir..." She knew, then. When he called her by name, practically begged her, she know. She would do anything he asked. Anything. Even if it meant leaving him behind. Even if it meant leaving her own heart behind to die with him. She'd do it, because he asked._

The Colonel's soft voice startled her and she lifted her head to check on him.

"Sara..."

The sadness in his voice, the longing, sent daggers through Carter's heart, stole her breath. She gasped softly, swallowing her own pain. If it would comfort him now, at the end, then she would do what he needed, _be _who he needed. Sam slid higher up on Jack's shoulder, bringing her face to his chilled cheek and neck. She closed her eyes and placed a soft kiss on his chilled skin, feeling his pulse beat slowly beneath her lips and admitting to herself that she was doing that as much for herself as for him.

"I'm here, Jack."

"Cold, so cold..."

Tears choked her voice as she gave in to her own fear and exhaustion. This was it, the last time she'd talk to him, the last moment they'd spend together. He'd go believing he'd made it back to his Sara, and if there were a merciful God in heaven, she'd follow soon after.

"I know."

Sam knew he'd hold on, that he'd fight until the very end. They'd both fought so hard...it was time to tell him that it was okay to stand down. He didn't have to fight any more.

"It's all right. You can sleep now."

Despite her desire to be...Sara...for him, she selfishly wanted him, _needed_ him to hear that it was her, Sam, with him, saying goodbye. Sam closed the last few inches between them and whispered softly in his ear, "It was an honor serving with you too, Colonel."

- - -

Carter peeked her head around the edge of the infirmary door. The lights were turned low, reflecting the darkness outside of the mountain. She wanted to make sure she wasn't disturbing her CO. Spotting him in the bed at the end of the room, she caught his eye and raised an eyebrow in question. The Colonel nodded and waved her inside, trying to see what she was hiding behind her back.

"Where's Doctor Fraser," she whispered.

"Gone for the night." O'Neill tipped his chin at her, pleased to see that the cuts on her cheek had cleaned up better than he'd expected. The red lines were secured by several steri-strips and the swelling looked like it was going down. He watched as his second in command, _his_ Carter, twisted to reveal a brightly frosted cupcake centered on a small plate. In the center of the cupcake was perched a candle, it's flame burning brightly in the dimly lit infirmary.

"Cake?"

Carter shrugged. "_Cup_cake."

"That's 'Colonel Cupcake' to you, Captain."

Carter tried to smother her giggle, only to have it turn into full-fledged laughter at the look of admonishment on O'Neill's face. She set the treat between them and pulled several napkins out of her BDU pocket. From another pocket came a small plastic milk bottle. He patted the bed in invitation and she sat down, carefully avoiding any contact with him.

"I see you came prepared."

"Yes, Sir."

O'Neill broke the cupcake in half, giving Carter her share and happily biting into his. He studied her as he enjoyed his treat, wondering what was going on behind her shadowed blue eyes. He didn't have to wait long to find out.

"I did promise, didn't I?" While they had been lost she'd cajoled him into one last cup of melted ice to try to keep him warm. As a reward she'd promised him cake. "I, also, ah...I wanted to apologize, Sir."

"For what?"

"For not figuring it out." She ran a hand through her hair, tumbling it in a way that made O'Neill forget about his cake for a moment. "That's what I do, I figure things out. And this time..."

Jack licked the last of the crumbs from his fingers, glancing up to see Carter's eyes following his every move. When she realized what she was doing, and that he had seen her, she bit her lip and tore her gaze away. O'Neill tried to ignore the thrill that shot through him from knowing the tiny action had captivated her, made her blush. _Focus, Jack. Fix this._

"Carter." He waited until she met his eyes. "If you hadn't dialed and, how did Daniel put it? Gotten a busy signal, they would have never found us. Not in our lifetimes, anyway. You may not have known we were on Earth, but you managed to...call 911, as it were." He was disappointed when Carter's blue eyes dropped away from his.

"For cryin' out loud, Captain. You can't save the world _all_ the time, it would get boring."

Chagrined, she nodded absently, her attention carefully focused on the frayed edge of his blanket. "Yes, Sir."

"Now, go on, finish your cake. Or I will."

"I'm not really hungry, Sir. You go ahead and have my half." Carter gingerly rose to leave, smothering a yawn. As much as she wanted to sleep in her own bed tonight, she'd opted to stay in her quarters on base. She wanted to be nearby, in case... _You have to let that go, Sam. It wasn't real, and he didn't even know you were there. To him you were...someone else._ Sam gave her CO a small smile and turned toward the door, only to stop when O'Neill's hand captured hers.

"Hey."

"Yes, Sir?"

"I..." It was O'Neill's turn to be uncomfortable, but he needed to say this, needed to let her know. "At the end, there, I...you..." He stopped, knowing he was treading a very fine line. _Oh, the hell with it, she needs to hear this and I need to say it. _"I can't think of anyone with whom I'd rather be lost than you...Captain." He frowned, that wasn't quite what he'd wanted to say. He tried again. "What I'm trying to say is that I appreciate everything you did, everything you..._said_...Sam. Everything."

_He knew._ He knew she'd pretended to be Sara for him. He knew and he didn't mind. As frustrating, as exhausting, as...frightening and painful as the past forty-eight hours had been, she'd do it all over again, just to provide him that small comfort. That he knew about it and appreciated it meant more to her than she could express. Carter kept her gaze on their joined hands, hers captured within his, her pale skin a stark contrast to his deeper tan. She felt him apply a bit of pressure to her fingers, the light squeeze bringing her eyes up to his face. She squeezed his once in return before releasing his hand. Just shy of the door she turned back to him.

"Thank you, Sir. As I said...it is an honor."


	12. Volo, Non Valeo

A/N: Another backfiller for Season 1. Enjoy. Reviews, as always, are saved, savored, and answered. Thank you. Oh, and to those wonderful reviewers of my last piece, _Within Reach_ (#8 in this series), those to whom I cannot respond because I have no way of doing so...your words really blew me away. Especially "USAFA grad." Thank you.

Set after _Politics _with reference to _There But For the Grace of God._

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_**Volo, Non Valeo **_

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_Sam stuffed her hands into her pockets and waited for the Colonel and Daniel to take a break in their sniping. "All right. Daniel, when you were in this alternate reality, were there differences?"_

"_Yes. Uh, Teal'c was leading the attack on Earth. I wasn't even part of the program. You and Jack were engaged to be married…"_

_Sam's eyes widened at Daniel's almost offhand comment and she sucked in a startled breath._

"_Excuse me?" Jack's voice was thick with disbelief._

"_What?" Sam's exclamation came on the heels of the Colonel's question and she whipped her head around to stare at her CO. She watched as O'Neill's expression changed from shock to speculation. Quickly, before the Colonel could say anything else, Sam asked, "Okay, um, even if you did actually experience the alternate reality, doesn't the very fact that there were differences mean that we won't face the same fate?"_

_Daniel winced as the doctor continued to patch up his arm. "Yes. But the defining event, the death of Ra, took place in both worlds."_

_Teal'c looked pensive. "An attack of retribution."_

"_Yes! And the same thing is going to happen here unless we stop it."_

_O'Neill's voice cut through Daniel's rising agitation. "All right. Wait a minute. Let…Let me get something straight here." He paused, flicking a glance between Daniel and Sam. "Engaged?"_

_Slightly exasperated with him, Sam turned and snapped, "It _is_ theoretically possible."_

"_It's against regulations!"_

_Sam's jaw sagged for a moment as she realized he was seriously thinking about Daniel's...vision. That he thought she was referring to them...or another them...being engaged. Oh no, Samantha, nip this one in the bud! "I'm talking _physics_, Sir. Though the whole concept of alternate realities, entire alternate universes, was predicted by Einstein a long time ago…"_

_Hammond came in then, followed by that slimy eel Samuels and Sam's attempt at an explanation was cut short. _

- -

"You almost ready?" O'Neill's abrupt knock on the door and curt voice pulled Sam out of her thoughts and she quickly shoved her feet into her sneakers and left the guest room. It had been her idea to get the team together tonight, though she'd begun doubting the wisdom of that idea since she'd arrived. General Hammond was in Washington trying to convince the President and...if he really had to...Senator Kinsey to keep the Stargate program operational. From what she'd heard from Sergeant Harriman, things didn't look good. Harriman had hinted that there would be new orders cut in the next week for all of the program's personnel. It looked like the General's attempts weren't going to work.

Sam glanced outside and saw the Colonel circling the small firepit. His normally smooth stride was jerky, almost uncontrolled. She could almost feel his anger from here. With a sigh Sam reached into her pocket and dug out her cell phone, wondering where Daniel and Teal'c were. Daniel picked up after the fourth ring sounding out of breath.

"Daniel?"

"_Yeah, Sam. What's up?"_

Sam eased open the sliding door and slid it closed behind her. Cupping the phone to her ear she descended the wooden steps and crossed the yard to where O'Neill still circled the fire like an angry wolf. "What do you mean, 'What's up'? Where are you?"

"_I'm at the base. Didn't Jack tell you?"_

Sam pulled the phone away from her ear and scowled. She replaced it and transferred her unhappy look to her CO. "No, Daniel, why don't _you_ tell me?"

O'Neill stopped his circling at her words, then as understanding apparently dawned he shrugged his shoulders and, despite his obvious anger and frustration, gave Sam a small smile.

Sam drifted off for a moment. One simple half-smirk from her CO was enough to draw her attention from the chattering archaeologist on her phone.

"_...m? Sam? Did I lose you? Sam!"_

"Oh...sorry. Must be a bad cell spot, Daniel. So...why aren't you here?" Sam heard a loud clattering and a sharp thud over the phone and she winced in sympathy. "Daniel?"

"_Look, Sam. Just ask Jack, okay?"_

Sam stared at the now disconnected cell phone, disconcerted with how quickly the call had ended. She looked up to find her CO watching her. She shrugged and tossed the phone onto the picnic table, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets. "So...Sir? What's going on?"

"Don't really know." O'Neill shrugged, then sighed loudly. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, unknowingly forcing it to stick straight up on his head. "He called while you were getting your bag from the car. He's got some wild idea and he's determined to...I don't know...look stuff up."

"Oh." Sam looked around, suddenly uncomfortable. "I, ah...should go. You know. Since the guys aren't here it's kind of silly to have a 'team night,' so..." Sam trailed off. She didn't really want to leave but she was aware that she really shouldn't stay.

"Got somewhere else to be?"

"What? No." Flustered, Sam blurted, "Samuels asked me to dinner."

"Ah. Well, then. Since we're not doing our thing, then..."

"God! No. I mean..." Sam glanced around again, wishing she hadn't opened her mouth. "That's not what I meant, Sir. I...you asked...and that just came out, and..."

"Relax, Carter." The Colonel laid another log on the fire.

Nodding, Sam nervously picked at a thread hanging from the cuff of her sweatshirt. She didn't know why she'd brought up shifty-eyed Samuels' dinner invitation, kind of a knee-jerk thing. The thought of leaving here...leaving him...to have dinner with that.... She shuddered at the thought. However, all things being equal... Sam reluctantly took a step away from the fire. "Still, Sir. I shouldn't really be here...you know..."

O'Neill looked up from the fire, his eyes warm and deep brown in the dancing amber light. "You don't have to run away, you know." He glanced at his watch. "In another five days I won't be your CO and it won't really matter if you're here for dinner alone or not."

Sam's heart stuttered to a halt at his words and she narrowed her gaze, trying to discover any hidden meaning behind them. He returned her look, his face almost expressionless, his gaze unwavering as it held her own. Sam sighed softly. _He's just being kind, Samantha. He doesn't mean it in any other way than–_

"Sam. Stay for dinner. Neither of us have eaten, and really...who'll care now?" Apparently taking her silence as assent, the Colonel strode away from the fire to the grill. He opened it and spent a few minutes busily turning the steaks he'd placed there earlier.

Sam watched him for a moment before giving in and stepping closer to the fire. She settled herself onto the cushion and crossed her legs, resting her back against the wooden frame behind her. She tipped her head back and rested it atop the bench seat, letting her thoughts wander where they would while the smell of their dinner washed over her on the evening breeze.

The sun had set long ago behind the ever-present mountain leaving the sky that deep indigo blue that faded so seamlessly into black. Sam could see the stars beginning to peek into sight, small pinholes in the growing inky blackness. Suddenly the loss of the Stargate, the fact that she'd never again see stars in other formations, never experience nights...and campfires...on other planets wrenched at Sam's heart. She closed her eyes against the sting of unexpected tears and turned her head away, hoping the Colonel hadn't seen.

"You okay?"

Sam lifted her head and surreptitiously wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Yes, Sir. I'm good."

"Glad somebody is."

"Sir?"

O'Neill set their plates aside and joined Sam on the cushion she'd come to think of as 'theirs.' He copied her pose from moments before, resting his back against the wood and tilting his head back against the bench seat. He studied the darkening sky for a moment before shaking his head. "Nope. This isn't gonna cut it. C'mon." O'Neill abruptly stood and thrust his hand down toward Sam.

Dinner forgotten, Sam automatically placed her hand in his, her mind awhirl in confusion as he–quite literally–dragged her toward the house. Sam's heart thudded in her chest and she fought to catch her breath. At the last second O'Neill swerved away from the porch steps to swing them both around the side of his house. There she saw another set of wooden steps, these leading, she knew, to an upper-level porch. O'Neill released her hand only as they reached the top of the steps and stepped out onto the small wooden deck. He waved her forward, toward the small stool that was set at the base of his telescope. Uncertain, Sam glanced back at him in surprise.

O'Neill gestured toward the stool again as he pulled the larger deck chair closer. As Sam sat herself upon the stool, O'Neill settled onto the front edge of the deck chair behind her. She barely stopped herself from jumping in surprise as he inched the deck chair closer, his thighs straddling her hips.

Sam caught her breath as the Colonel leaned forward. His back rested against hers as he half-stood to reach up and uncover the front of the 'scope and she closed her eyes and bit back a sigh as he slid back into place. He rested a hand on her shoulder as he popped the cover off of the eyepiece and set both into the tray mounted to the 'scope's tripod. His hand was still on her shoulder and Sam could swear that she could feel the heat of him on her skin. He gave a quick squeeze and sat back again, his hand sliding down her back and away. She immediately missed that warmth.

His voice was low and gruff in her ear as he asked, "What do you want, Sam?"

Sam leaned to her left and half-turned on the stool, facing him. Her emotions were all over the place and she was having trouble getting a handle on them. Still slightly out of breath from both their rapid change of position and her reaction to his nearness, she could only shake her head, her wide blue eyes expressing her confusion.

The Colonel reached behind him and opened up a small wooden chest. From it he pulled out a well-worn folded sheaf of heavy paper. When he carefully opened it up Sam could see that it was a star map. Not the kind you'd find in a kid's store, but a professional astronomer's reference map. Looking closer she could see several annotations in the margins and still more mixed in amongst the celestial bodies printed on the map. O'Neill gently tapped the sheet, bringing her gaze back up to his. "They can't take it all away from us, Car– Sam. We can still look."

"How did you know?" Her voice was quiet and she wasn't at all proud of the quaver she heard. But for the first time she didn't feel like she needed to pretend to be strong. Not tonight.

"Because you looked like I felt. Like someone had taken away from you one of the things in life you love most."

Sam caught her breath again and this time didn't catch the tears in time before they slipped down her cheek. "Oh." She closed her eyes to prevent more from falling and didn't see O'Neill's hand as he reached out to wipe her cheeks. She jumped slightly as his warm fingers brushed against her skin and when she opened her eyes she was startled to find his beautiful brown eyes impossibly close to her own. "Sir?" Her barely audible question hung in the air between them.

"It's okay, Carter." O'Neill leaned to the side and pulled out a pristine handkerchief. He gently wiped the last of her tears and then sat back slightly. He held out the hankie to Sam and she took it, absently curling her fingers around the wash-softened material. He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her back toward the telescope. He reached around her and set the star map on her lap, then rested his chin on her shoulder. "I meant it, Sam. Kinsey. He can take the Stargate from us, but he can't take _this _away." Once again he tapped the map resting on her knees. "So...what'll it be, Captain?"

She glanced down at the map on her knees, not really able to see the type or notations in the dark or through the blurring of her own tears. He was giving her this, the continuing dream of exploring space. He knew how important it was to her, how...freeing...it was. How much she needed to contribute. And despite his own obvious pain he was reaching out to make certain she knew that he understood. And wanted to make it better for her. Some of her sadness lifted and Sam felt a small smile cross her lips. She realized he was still waiting for her answer and she picked a nebula that was sure to make him smile.

"M27. It's 1.2 thousand light years away, so it might be a little tough to find."

"Nah. You'll be surprised at how big the lense is on this baby." Once again O'Neill was pressed against her back as he leaned forward to check the position of the 'scope. He pulled out the small controller and punched in the designation she'd named and together they watched while the 'scope realigned itself.

Sam smiled again, this time wider. "That's cheating, Sir."

"Hey, why do all that math when someone's already done it for you. Wasn't Einstein the guy who said, 'Never memorize anything you can look up'?"

Sam blinked at her Colonel in surprise. "I'm...ah...beginning to think Daniel's not the only to be in an alternate reality. You just quoted Einstein. Correctly."

"Ah, Carter. I have many skills." As they waited for the 'scope to finish adjusting, he asked, "Does it have a name or..."

"Dumbbell."

She could feel him chuckle against her back. "Hey, Carter! That's not nice. After all, I­–"

Sam smiled over her shoulder at him, reveling in his closeness, in the current she could feel running between them. "No, Colonel. It's called the 'Dumbbell Nebula."

"Oh." The Colonel quirked a small smile at her, then his expression quickly changed to one of suspicion. "Hey...wait. Why'd you pick that one."

Sam swiveled the stool around, telescope and celestial bodies forgotten for the moment. "Because I knew it would make you smile, Sir."

"Oh."

O'Neill's expression was nearly invisible on the now complete darkness, leaving Sam to guess at his mood. Suddenly she found that she wasn't nervous any more. If she'd overstepped the bounds, who cared? As the Colonel said, what were 'they' going to do? They'd already done the worst they could as far as she was concerned. They'd permanently grounded her and in a few short weeks she would be losing her new-found family. People with whom she'd found a home. Someone with whom she could imagine.... Sam shrugged her shoulders, knowing O'Neill would feel her movement, as close as he was sitting. "It seemed only fair, Colonel."

"How so?"

"You made me smile."

"Ah." O'Neill cleared his throat. "I think we're good, Carter."

Sam turned back toward the telescope and set her eye to the viewer. She gasped as the green and orange gaseous formation suddenly brought closer. She reached to bring it into focus and then simply stared with wonder at the sight. _I've been there_, she thought. _I've been to planets near that point in space and never appreciated what was before me._

She leaned aside so the Colonel could take his turn. He leaned forward, balancing a hand on her knee to steady himself and Sam allowed herself a moment of indulgence and she rested a hand on his back. She savored the moment and made a silent vow never to let herself take the wonders before her for granted again.

The Earth continued to spin lazily in its orbit around the sun, bringing new and extraordinary phenomena into view, while together the two military officers of the soon-to-be-disbanded team continued their exploration of the night sky, bound to the planet by design, but bound together by so much more.

- -

Afterword: The title is Latin and means, "I am willing but unable."


	13. Connection

**Updated A/N 3/31/09: This is not a new story. The new story is _Torn_, which is Chapter 4 of this series. I am going back in and putting in Campfire possibilities that I missed the first time around. So, if this looks familiar, it is. Go and read Chapter 4, thanks.  
**

A/N: Another mini-campfire (Sterno) story. I still think they count. Included in CS-Season One because it ties up the two-parter from season one to season two.

Set during _Serpent's Lair _with reference to _Enigma_, _Within the Serpents Grasp, _and _Politics_

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_**Connection**_

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The scrape of the match sounded loud to Carter and she winced, automatically glancing behind her toward the door. Her eyes were still not fully recovered from the Goa'uld flash-bang device, but they'd recovered enough that she could function. From their position along the adjacent wall, Daniel and Teal'c both looked over at her and O'Neill before returning their attention to their own dinners and continuing their quiet conversation. The Colonel had ordered them all to eat some rations and catch some sleep while they could. He'd started his Sterno and when there'd been no reaction from the guards, he'd slid it over to Daniel to heat his and Teal'c's dinners. Carter had immediately pulled out her own small stove in order to rehydrate and warm up her and O'Neill's pre-packaged rations.

With the water warming, Carter settled back against the wall, automatically positioning herself to face the door. O'Neill paced the length of their cell once more before joining her, sliding down the wall and stretching his long legs out before him. Carter watched as he fiddled with the zipper on his vest, his long, graceful fingers playing with the plastic tag, his gaze far away. She checked the water and, deciding it was hot enough, began carefully pouring it into her MRE bag. Across the cell, Teal'c blew out their Sterno and began to kel'no'reem while Daniel settled himself down against the wall, preparing to sleep.

Daniel. He saw too much...heard too much sometimes. Heard even when the words weren't spoken aloud. Sam remembered being in that cargo hold with him, telling him they were going after Teal'c and the Colonel.

-

"_Daniel, we're going to go after them."_

"_Wait a minute, when are we going to blow the ship?"_

"_We'll detonate only as a last resort."_

_Sam avoided Daniel's eyes, her attention determinedly focused on loading a new clip into her weapon._

_Daniel studied her, his gaze intent upon her face. She set her jaw and checked her weapon again before looking up at him. She knew he'd heard her breath catch, had seen her eyes close when they'd heard Klorel say he had both of their teammates. She hadn't been able to stop the flash of fear that had shot through her and was sure it had been evident to him. She turned away, checking her pockets for more ammunition as he tried again._

"_Listen, I wanna save them as much as you do, but if we get captured or killed, there is going to be nobody left to blow this ship before it gets to Earth."_

_She knew what Daniel was doing. Sam had argued with O'Neill earlier about going after Skaara, almost accusing him of making an emotional decision, yet here she was, doing the very same thing. She knew it. Daniel knew it. She knew that Daniel knew it. Too bad. If the Colonel could make a command decision based on emotion then so could she. Daniel could think what he wanted, but they _were_ going to do this._

"_That's why I'm setting a timer. If we don't deactivate it in 24 hours, it'll go automatically. Okay?" Sam squinted up at him, her face blank, refusing to give anything more away._

_The understanding in his eyes was almost too much for her. She tilted her head and met his gaze almost defiantly, carefully tucking away any other emotion that might betray her thoughts. _

_Finally he nodded, his all-too-intuitive look speaking volumes. "Okay."_

-

Carter blew on her meal, trying to cool it down. She kept her voice low, trying not to disturb her teammates.

"Sir? Where's your MRE?"

"Don't worry about it, Captain."

Sam turned to him, concerned. She knew he was devastated by the death of Skaara. Once again he'd lost a boy he loved. Once again by his own weapon, but _this_ time by his own hand. She wondered briefly if _General_ O'Neill of Daniel's other reality had lost a his son too, or if he'd even had one. So much in that other universe had been similar to their own, yet so much had been different. Sam refused to acknowledge the flutter she felt when thinking of one very obvious difference between the two universes, her–or rather _Doctor_ Carter's–engagement to said General.

"Colonel, you need to eat."

"No, _Captain_, I don't."

Carter sighed, knowing that once again she was pushing that boundary. It was pretty much hammered into you from day one of your plebe summer at the Academy, never, ever argue with a senior officer. Somehow, given the circumstances, Carter thought her Academy instructors would forgive her this time.

"Colonel. I'm sorry about Skaara, but–"

She flinched slightly as O'Neill turned his eyes to hers. The harsh pain on his face stole her breath for a moment before the Colonel's impassive mask slammed into place. Determined, she pushed on._ In for a penny and all that._ She set her dinner aside and glanced back at Teal'c and Daniel before daring to lay a hand on her CO's arm.

"Sir, I know...I mean, I can't _know_, but I'm... Damn it." Carter sighed, her own sorrow and fear making her voice shake slightly. "Sir...please."

At her words O'Neill's mask slipped slightly and some of the light returned to his eyes. Carter kept her eyes on his, watching as his gaze left hers to move over her face, down to her hand on his arm, then back again. Very slowly he covered her hand with his own, giving her fingers a slight squeeze. Her hand felt chilled when his fell away again to reach into his own pack for a vacuum-sealed bag, his eyes never leaving hers. She took it from him with a nod, handing him her already warmed meal in return. She wasn't taking any chances that he'd change his mind while the meal was rehydrating.

O'Neill slowly took the bag from Carter, halfheartedly digging into the unappealing meal. He'd eat, if only to keep his Second from turning those huge blue eyes on him again. More and more often he found himself unable to resist them. Resist her. And when she added a soft 'please,' he simply had no defenses at all. It would be easier if he could make himself not feel, to block it all out. He'd done that successfully after Charlie...and had been on his way again when she'd stepped in the way.

Carter. A fumbled attempt at expressing her sympathy and a hand on his arm, and she'd stopped that spiral. He tried not to think about what that meant as he watched her slowly stir the warm water into her own meal.

"Carter."

Sam looked up, glad to see her commanding officer had eaten some of his meal. She raised an eyebrow in question.

"Thanks."

Carter ducked her head, then looked up into his warm brown eyes. There was even more light in them now, more warmth. She smiled softly and whispered, "You're welcome. Sir."

O'Neill held her gaze for a moment longer, then returned to his own meal. They ate together in silence, listening as Daniel's soft snoring echoed through the chilly room. When they finished he gathered their trash and tossed it into the far corner of the room. He shrugged off her look with a shake of his head. It's not like they'd fine him for littering.

"Time to turn in, Captain." O'Neill waited for Carter to settle her back against the wall, one arm tucked under her head as a cushion. He stretched out, mirroring her position, his head hear hers. She was good for him, this brilliant, eager scientist. All other things aside, this young woman was a hell of an officer and he was damned lucky to have her in his command. Jack knew it was the "other things" that could potentially cause trouble between them. _For_ them. But that was for the future. For now he was glad that "other" tenuous connection was there. It was that connection that had pulled him back tonight. He'd needed that. Needed _her._ After a minute, he reached over and gently nudged his Second, waiting for her to look at him.

"Sam?"

Jack quirked a small smile at her as she tried to hide the flush that rose at his use of her name. If he had any doubts that she was aware of that other–not-quite-by-the-book–connection, they were wiped away by that soft blush.

"Sir?"

"Ah...remember...if someone comes in..."

Carter smothered a small giggle and replied, "Yes, Sir, I know. Bite 'em in the hand."

- - - - - -

END

More Camfire stories to come for season two. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


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